Drifting into Danger

"I… I have no business here…" he answered weakly. He was telling the truth. He didn't have any business in Kisesh, or anywhere else for that matter. 'Forget business, I didn't even have a job.' He thought bitterly. He was just a poor guy who had lost everything in a fire.

The soldier spoke firmly, pushing the sword closer to his throat. "By the law of the kingdom, anyone who uses the river without the Kisesh insignia is an invader. So I ask you again, state your business here."

Moriarty felt a surge of panic. 'Crap, I'm in Kisesh? How did… I?' He realized that he had drifted into Kisesh territory, he had been carried away by the river's current, without noticing where he was going. He made an even grimmer expression when he also remembered that Kisesh was infamous for its cruelty towards outsiders to their proud kingdom, who were either killed or enslaved.

He had no chance of escaping, as he was surrounded and weaponless. He had no hope of lying, as they would easily detect his falsehood and make him suffer for more answers. He had to find a way to persuade them that he was not a threat or a nuisance, or at least not worth their attention.

He searched his mind for any plausible reason or excuse that could spare him from his doom. 'Should I really lie? Maybe, just maybe, it could work.' But before he could think of anything, the soldier made up his mind.

"Take him." He commanded his men, who swiftly seized Moriarty by his limbs. They hoisted him up and dragged him away from the river.

"You are now a prisoner, if no one comes looking for you and pays your ransom within a month, you will be sent to the mines." The soldier said harshly, as they tossed him into a wagon that was parked nearby."

Moriarty tried to plead, showing his wrinkled hands that showed he had been in the water for a long time. He hoped that they would buy his story and release him. "Wait! I'll tell you! I'll tell you! Come on. I was washed down the river, I'm innocent look at my hand."

The soldier dismissed his appeal. He seemed to have decided on Moriarty's fate. "I can see that, so you were here that long, biding your time to infiltrate. You are definitely an invader then. Miles, write it down, upgrade his category to level 4." He said, accusing him without hesitation.

Moriarty was dumbfounded by what had just happened. He couldn't believe that his situation had worsened. He had expected them to be wary of him, but not to charge him just like that. 'No way that they can interpreted it like that too. Crap, I'm screwed.' He thought, as he felt a wave of hopelessness. He realized that he had no way of escaping or persuading them otherwise.

They hauled him inside the building, after taking him out of the wagon and entered the wall. 'If I'm an intruder, I'm already inside, mission accomplished, right? But I'm not!' he thought to himself as he tried to protest. He wanted to tell them that they had misunderstood.

He asked the soldier next to him, hoping to get some information. "What's category level 4?" He wondered what it implied and how grave it was. The soldier answered, "It's for spies. You're going to be questioned and tormented until you spill your secrets." He said it with a grin, as if he relished seeing Moriarty's terror.

Moriarty stopped walking, this time putting up as much fight as he could. He knew he was in serious trouble and he had no clue how to escape it. He had no secrets to share with them, but he doubted they would trust him or free him. This made the soldiers draw their swords, ready to slash him if he defied them any more. They had no tolerance or compassion for intruders like him.

Seeing this, cold sweat ran down his forehead, "Gulp! I… I'm not resisting anymore." He said in a faint voice, moving his hand forward showing a sign to bind his hand. He hoped they would spare his life if he complied. But one soldier struck him at the back of his neck with a blunt object, making him pass out and they dragged him along the hallway, his underwear sometimes pulled by something almost exposing him naked. He was unaware of the fate that awaited him in the dark room, where he would face unspeakable pain and terror.

He was thrown into a cell and his face slammed against the floor, sliding until he hit something that jolted him awake. He groaned as he felt a throbbing pain in his head and a metallic taste in his mouth.

"Another one?" A deep voice in front of him asked, with a curious and dignified tone. The voice had a slight accent that he couldn't identify, but it seemed vaguely familiar.

Moriarty lifted his head and saw a man chained to the wall, his body covered with bruises and cuts. Even in the dim room with only a faint light from the hallway, he could see the man's face had deep scars that distorted his features. He looked like he had endured unimaginable torture, but he still had a proud and defiant look on his face.

"Don't pity me. You'll share my fate soon enough, so save it for yourself." The man said calmly and confidently, as if he was used to the pain. He spoke as if he was not afraid of anything or anyone.

Moriarty looked around and saw another man in a corner on the left side, lying still and motionless. He wondered if he was dead or unconscious. He had a pale and gaunt face, and he was naked and stained with blood. He looked like he had lost all hope and accepted his fate.

The floor was stained with dried and fresh blood. When he touched his face, his hand came away with blood on it. He felt a sharp pain in his nose and cheekbone. He realized that he had broken his nose and fractured his cheekbone when he hit the floor. He cursed under his breath and wiped the blood off his face.

He felt a surge of panic. 'Crap, this is so real. I'm really doomed.'