Four days had gone by since Kona had woken up inside the cage.
The caravan, under Krulls' strict command, had been traveling swiftly, already leaving behind that river Kona had seen from the northern edge of the forest.
Despite being relegated in a tiny cage, the worst part of Kona's trip was definitely the food.
They'd kept serving him some weird kind of yellowish broth, stinky and slimy; the worst thing he'd ever eaten. And they hadn't made any exception for his 13th birthday.
Left alone, crammed and isolated, the boy had reached a few conclusions.
First of all, he was pretty sure Krulls could sense the Flow.
He had stopped when faced with the hurricane, that was already some clear evidence.
Furthermore, it was the only way he could've fought and moved in that way despite being blind.
Kona had also thought about the brawl. When Junas had fallen to the ground, Krulls' movement speed had been ridiculously quick, almost magical.
This had led Kona to a second probable conclusion: Krulls could somehow manipulate or use the Flow to his advantage.
Among the memories of the battle, however, there was one that unsettled him.
The image of those porcelain-white eyes, the ones he saw before fainting: when thinking about them, the boy felt a weird lump inside.
However, that wasn't the time to reflect or make assumptions. He had to focus on his objective: escaping.
During those few days, he tried to gather as much information as possible on where he was being taken, but all he could catch was that they were headed north, past the Banerya Kingdom, towards a place in the Duchy of Flenn.
The Duchy of Flenn was a smaller state, just north of Banerya. It wasn't a dominant force in the Mainland, but its tax laws and their no-questions-asked policies were quite advantageous for people like Krulls.
Since Kona couldn't yet come up with a plan, his best bet was training.
He figured that, no matter the situation, being able to use a power like the one he'd unleashed in the village's square would be useful.
He spent his days focusing, trying to manipulate matter, for now. Water droplets, small rocks, tiny fires. He tried to follow Doran's instructions.
There were a few nights, however, when his desperate situation dragged him down.
He was just a boy.
He'd been kidnapped by a notoriously ferocious mercenary.
Was his father alive?
How was his mother?
What about Doran?
Were they searching for him? Would someone come to the rescue? Was he making them worry?
More than once, the full moon's faint rays reflected on his spontaneous tears.
In the evening, the caravan came to a halt.
However, this time was different.
Usually, the troop would only stop in a spot somewhat hidden and sheltered, like a natural slope under the trees or a cave.
This time, however, they'd reached a small village, which sat at the foot of a woody hill, just under a bald, rocky mountain.
It was encircled by a wooden fence, and on its west side were a few small fields. Within the palisade, the buildings rested crammed on top of one another. Despite the appearance, it was a bit larger than Gerga.
Upon entering the village, Kona's gut caught an odd feeling.
The atmosphere felt heavy, and the few narrow roads were practically empty; the only people who could be seen were dressed in that usual black leather uniform.
Through the windows and blinds, however, many still eyes observed the arrival of the caravan.
Only mercenaries around... But there are other people here. This looks like a village, not a camp. Then...
As the sun's last sparse rays waved at them, Kona's cage was suddenly shaken, disrupting him from his observations.
Krulls, his terrifying grin as wide as usual, had placed one of his colossal hands on top of the wooden roof.
"White Prince! Welcome to our humble hamlet! I sure hope your stay will be delightful; we'll make sure to house you in our most pristine accommodation."
The mocking tone, paired with the gloomy atmosphere that weighed on the area, had Kona crawling backwards.
Krulls laughed, raucous.
"This is Verbien, a small rural town in the great Duchy of Flenn. Well, recently, a new administration has been established."
The giant paused, leaning towards the bars.
"I'm sure you noticed, but it is us that run this place. Tomorrow, you'll have your chance to tell me all the things you've had time to think about, alright? This evening, however, the town's prison will be thrilled to host you. I'm sure you'll have a great time."
As Krulls left, he instructed two subordinates, who took him out of the cage.
Kona was dragged through the narrow streets, thrown around like a dirty bag by the two men in black.
They marched uphill, reaching a stone structure, with barred windows on all sides.
The two men left him at the entrance, a small creaky door guarded by one of their colleagues. The man, after spitting on him, brought him inside.
Kona was thrown in a small, barred room.
Stone walls, a tiny window hindered by metal rods, a dirty bucket and a terrible smell.
It stank like hell in there, and the floor was covered in rubble, mold and the Gods know what else.
Not like Kona wanted to know.
He sat on the ground, trying to find a cleaner spot.
The cold, gloomy air submerged him, as he whirled in search of a comfortable position, and the thoughts started flowing.
While traveling, his progress hadn't been anything worth noting, but he'd moved forwards quicker than what Doran had anticipated.
He could now comfortably produce water in small amounts, as well as some feeble flames. It wasn't much, and it drained a lot of his energy, but it was progress. However...
It's not enough to escape. That monster would laugh at these tricks.
Time was his biggest issue.
If tomorrow he were to tell Krulls about Flow and magic, the giant would probably be satisfied. However, this also meant that there was no reason for him to keep Kona alive.
On the other hand, maintaining the secret would surely allow for more training, but...
That titan didn't look merciful in the slightest. Would it be safe to ignore his request?
If I don't tell him what he wants, he might even torture me. But if I do tell him…
The prison was silent, and outside it had started raining.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Slowly, the boy's thoughts faded into the cell's darkness.