The Auction of Lives

"This," Garik said, gesturing to the spoils around him, "is what I call a proper payday."

Garik turned to the line of prisoners. Kain stood among them, his wrists bound in heavy chains. The girl clung to his arm, trembling as Garik's gaze swept over them.

"You see," Garik began, addressing his lieutenants, "it's not just about coin from weapons and trinkets. No, the real gold lies in the people." He pointed to Kain. "That one? The arenas will pay handsomely for someone like him."

Kain stiffened, his jaw clenching as Garik's words sank in.

Garik's finger shifted to the girl. "Her? A pretty face. Brothels in the capital will line up for the chance to bid on her."

The girl whimpered, shrinking further behind Kain, but there was nowhere to hide. Garik's attention moved down the line. "The rest of you? Hard laborers. Nobles always need someone to dig their ditches and clean their halls."

Torik's dagger flashed as he stepped forward, his voice a growl. "We had a deal, Garik. Supplies, not people."

Garik's smirk didn't falter. "And I'm altering the deal, bandit. Do yourself a favor and stay out of my way."

Torik lunged without warning, his dagger aimed for the chain binding Kain. The blade severed the links with a sharp clang, and Kain stumbled back, momentarily free.

The mercenaries reacted instantly, their weapons drawn as Garik stepped forward, his massive axe in hand. "You're testing my patience, Torik."

Torik ignored him, his focus on the chain binding the girl. He moved with brutal efficiency, slicing through it as the first mercenary attacked. The blade grazed Torik's shoulder, but he countered, driving his dagger into the man's throat.

"Run!" Torik barked at Kain and the girl, his voice sharp and commanding.

Kain hesitated, his legs frozen as chaos erupted around him. Torik's movements were relentless, his dagger cutting through another attacker as blood sprayed across the clearing. But even Torik couldn't fight forever.

Garik's axe came down with devastating force, slamming into the dirt inches from Torik's feet. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, throwing Torik off balance. Another mercenary seized the opportunity, driving his sword into Torik's side.

Blood gushed from the wound as Torik staggered, his hand clutching at the gash. He dropped to one knee, his dagger slipping from his grasp.

"Stay down," Garik growled, stepping closer, his axe gleaming in the firelight. "You've lost."

Alric moved then, his sword raised as he blocked the next strike aimed at Torik. The clash of steel echoed through the clearing as Alric held his ground, his muscles straining under the force of the blow.

"Enough!" Alric barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. He turned to Garik, his expression hard. "You've made your point."

Garik's eye narrowed. "You think you can talk your way out of this?"

"I think," Alric said evenly, "that killing him now gains you nothing. You want to sell them? Fine. But you're losing men faster than you're gaining coin."

Garik paused, his grip on his axe tightening. He glanced at his fallen men, the ones Torik had cut down in his desperate stand. His smirk returned, jagged and cold. "Fine. But he's coming with us in chains."

Alric nodded stiffly.

Kain remained frozen, his chest heaving as he stared at Torik's bloodied form. Chains rattled as Garik's men grabbed the bandit leader, dragging him toward the prisoner line. Blood dripped steadily from his side, pooling in the dirt as his head lolled forward.

"Move," one of the mercenaries barked, shoving Kain forward. His wrists were bound again, the cold bite of metal snapping him back to reality.

The girl clung to his arm, tears streaking her face. "What do we do?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Kain didn't answer. His gaze was locked on Torik, the man who had bled for him, who had risked everything to protect him. His stomach churned with a mix of anger, guilt, and helplessness.

As the prisoners were herded together, Garik addressed his men. "Pack it up. We're heading to the capital. The arenas will pay well for fighters, and the brothels will handle the rest. The nobles can have the leftovers."

Torik groaned weakly, his voice barely audible. "You… bastard…"

Garik crouched beside him, his smirk widening. "You're lucky I'm not killing you here. But don't worry. You'll fetch a good price, wounded or not."

Alric stood silently beside Torik, his expression unreadable. He glanced at Kain, their eyes meeting briefly. Kain's jaw tightened, the weight of his chains a stark reminder of his powerlessness.

As the caravan moved out, the clearing fell silent once more. The faint glow of the capital's lights shimmered on the horizon, a cruel beacon of what awaited them.

Torik's blood still marked the ground . Kain's heart pounded as he stumbled forward.

Far behind them, the smoldering embers of the battle flickered and died. The journey to the arena had begun. 

Kain walked near the middle of the group, his wrists aching from the iron manacles. His legs burned with exhaustion, but he forced himself to keep pace. Torik limped beside him, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Blood seeped through the crude bandage wrapped around his side.

"Move faster!" barked one of Garik's men, his whip snapping just behind Kain.

Torik's lips curled into a faint smirk despite his condition. "You'd think they'd learn to save their breath," he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

Kain glanced at him, worry etched across his face. "You're bleeding again."

"Not the first time," Torik replied.

Ahead, Garik rode his horse, surveying the procession with his usual air of disdain. His eye scanned the group, lingering on Torik's faltering steps.

"If you slow us down," Garik called, his voice dripping with malice, "I'll leave you for the wolves. Maybe they'll have better luck chewing through that stubborn hide of yours."

Torik grinned faintly, his teeth stained red. "That a promise, Garik?"

The mercenaries laughed, though their amusement carried a nervous edge. Garik's temper was as sharp as his axe, and no one wanted to test its limits.

The girl stumbled beside Kain, her chain pulling sharply against his own. She winced, barely managing to stay upright. Kain shifted his weight to steady her, earning a hiss from the mercenary guard.

"Keep your distance!" the man growled, shoving Kain forward with the butt of his spear.

Kain staggered but didn't fall. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his jaw clenched as his anger simmered beneath the surface.

"Thank you," the girl whispered, her voice trembling.

Kain nodded slightly, his chest tight. He glanced at Torik again, who stumbled and caught himself on a nearby tree. His smirk was gone, replaced by a grim determination to keep moving.

At the rear of the caravan, Alric walked with measured steps, his hands bound but his mind racing. He watched Garik's men carefully, noting their positions, their weapons, and their routines. Each step of the march brought new observations, new possibilities.

His eyes flicked to Torik and Kain ahead. Torik was a liability now, his injury worsening with each passing hour. Garik wouldn't hesitate to cut him loose, or worse. Alric's jaw tightened. He couldn't afford to let that happen.

The sun vanished completely, plunging the forest into darkness. The caravan stopped for the night, the mercenaries lighting torches and setting up a rudimentary camp. The prisoners were herded into a small clearing, their chains fastened to a large tree trunk.

Kain sat beside Torik, his hands still bound. "You need to rest," he said quietly.

Torik chuckled weakly. "Rest won't fix this, boy."

Before Kain could respond, a distant howl echoed through the forest. The sound was low and guttural, sending a shiver through the group.

"Wolves?" one of the mercenaries asked nervously, his grip tightening on his sword.

"Not wolves," Garik said, his good eye scanning the treeline.

The first arrow struck before the word finished leaving his mouth. It thudded into the neck of a mercenary standing near the fire. He collapsed with a gurgling cry as chaos erupted.

The bandits attacked in waves. Garik's men rallied quickly, their swords clashing against the attackers' makeshift weapons. The air filled with the sound of steel on steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of Garik's voice as he swung his axe.

Kain pressed himself against the tree, shielding the girl as best he could. Torik groaned beside him, struggling to sit up despite his wound.

"Stay down!" Kain hissed.

"Not in my nature," Torik muttered, though his strength was fading fast.

A bandit broke through the mercenaries' line, his wild eyes locking onto the prisoners. He raised his dagger, a cruel grin spreading across his face.

Kain reacted instinctively. He kicked out, his bound legs catching the bandit in the knee. The man stumbled, and Kain surged forward, slamming his shoulder into the attacker's chest. The bandit fell back, his head striking the tree trunk with a crack.

Kain panted, his heart racing. His chains rattled as he turned to check on the girl. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her lips trembling.

Torik chuckled weakly. "Not bad... ."

As the battle died down, the remaining bandits retreated into the forest, their numbers too few to press the attack. The clearing was littered with bodies, the fire casting long shadows over the carnage.

Garik surveyed the scene, his face dark with fury. "Get moving," he barked at his men. "We're leaving now."

The prisoners were dragged to their feet, their chains tugged as the caravan reassembled. Torik groaned as two mercenaries hauled him upright, his blood staining the ground beneath him.

Kain clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on Garik. His hatred burned brighter than ever, but his chains remained a stark reminder of his helplessness.

Far ahead, the faint glow of the capital's lights pierced the horizon. The journey wasn't over, it had only just begun.

The caravan trudged onward as the faint glow of the capital grew brighter with each passing hour. The prisoners moved in silence, their exhaustion palpable. Chains clinked with every step, a relentless reminder of their captivity.

Kain's legs burned, each step a monumental effort. Torik staggered beside him, his face pale and slick with sweat. His wound was worse, the bandage barely stemming the steady trickle of blood. Kain's hands itched to help, but the chains binding his wrists made it impossible.

"You're slipping," Kain said quietly, glancing at Torik.

Torik grunted, his smirk faint but present. "Still here."

"Not for long if you keep bleeding like that," Kain muttered, his tone sharper than he intended.

Torik shot him a sidelong glance, his eyes glassy. "Don't count me out yet, boy."

Ahead, Garik rode at the front of the line, his eye scanning the terrain. "We'll stop soon," Garik announced. "Long enough to rest, but don't get comfortable. We reach the capital by dawn."

The group stopped in a clearing, the glow of the city barely through the trees. Fires were lit, casting shadows across the weary prisoners. Mercenaries patrolled the perimeter, their weapons at the ready.

Torik slumped against a tree, his breathing shallow. Kain crouched beside him, his chains rattling softly. The girl sat nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

"You should've let them leave me," Torik murmured, his voice barely audible.

Kain frowned. "Shut up. You're not dying here."

"Stubborn," Torik said with a faint chuckle, though it quickly turned into a grimace of pain. "Reminds me of me."

Kain opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps cut him off. Alric appeared, his expression tense. He crouched beside Torik, pulling a flask from his belt.

"Drink," Alric said, holding it out.

Torik hesitated before taking a small sip. He grimaced as the liquid burned down his throat. "Tastes like piss."

"It helps," Alric replied flatly, his gaze shifting to Kain. "Keep him alive. We'll need him."

Kain glared. "Why do you care?"

Alric didn't answer. He stood and walked back toward the mercenaries, his posture stiff and his face unreadable.

As the camp settled, the girl leaned closer to Kain. "Do you think they'll really sell us?"

Kain's jaw tightened. "That's what Garik said."

She shivered, her voice trembling. "I don't want to go to the brothels. I'd rather die."

Kain didn't know how to respond. He stared at his chains, his frustration mounting. His helplessness gnawed at him, the weight of his failures pressing heavily on his chest.

"Stay close," he said finally, his voice low. "Whatever happens, don't let go of me."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded.

Just before dawn, a sharp whistle cut through the air. The mercenaries sprang to their feet, their weapons drawn as shadows moved through the trees.

"Another attack?" Garik growled, his axe already in hand.

But the figures that emerged weren't bandits. They were scouts, riders clad in the colors of House Lirian.

Garik cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on his axe. The leader of the riders, a man with sharp features and a piercing gaze, dismounted and approached.

"Garik," the rider said smoothly, his tone carrying an air of authority. "Running quite the operation, I see."

Garik's smirk returned, though it lacked its usual bite. "Just making a living."

The rider's eyes swept over the prisoners, lingering briefly on Kain and Torik. "The house might have an interest in some of these... assets."

Garik's smirk faltered slightly. "These assets are mine. Already spoken for."

The rider raised an eyebrow. "Everything has a price."

The tension in the clearing was thick as Garik squared his shoulders, his mercenaries gripping their weapons. Kain's heart raced as he glanced at Torik, who was barely conscious.

The rider gestured, and two of his men stepped forward, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. "We'll make it simple. You either negotiate, or we take them."

Garik chuckled darkly, though his good eye gleamed with unease. "You're welcome to try."

Before the situation could erupt into violence, a sharp cry rang out from the prisoner line. Kain turned, his eyes widening as the girl collapsed, her body trembling.

"She's sick," Kain said quickly, his voice rising. "She needs water!"

Garik shot him a glare. "Quiet, boy."

The rider tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. "Sick prisoners fetch no price, Garik."

Kain clenched his fists, his anger boiling over. "You're all bastards."

The rider's gaze snapped to Kain, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "And you've got fire. You'd do well in the arena."

The tension broke as Garik waved the riders off, his expression dark. "You've wasted enough of my time. Get out."

The riders mounted their horses, though the leader lingered a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Kain. "We'll see each other again, boy."

As the riders disappeared into the trees, Garik barked orders for the caravan to move. Torik was hauled to his feet, his groans barely audible over the clinking of chains.

Kain's jaw tightened as he stumbled forward, his anger and helplessness simmering. The capital's gates loomed ahead, and with them, the promise of a fight far worse than any he'd faced before.