Rafael walked toward the old stone well, his black cloak drawn tightly around him, hood shadowing his face. The air was quiet—broken only by the chirping of distant crickets and the soft crunch of gravel under his boots.
Malrek was already there.
The boy sat on the edge of the well, hunched over, legs dangling. His brown hair was a messy tangle, and his face—normally sharp and alert—was twisted with pure worry. His foot tapped rapidly against the stone, his whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
When he spotted Rafael emerging from the darkness, Malrek practically jumped out of his skin.
Rafael stopped in front of him, arms crossed."…What is wrong with you?"
Malrek forced a shaky smile, voice cracking as he tried—and failed—to sound casual."Oh, nothing," he said theatrically, waving his hands, "I'm just going to be arrested today. Nothing big. Perfectly normal day for me."
Rafael stared at him. Malrek gulped."…Okay, maybe I'm freaking out a little."
"Just a little," Rafael replied.
Malrek paced in a circle now. "You sure this'll work? Because I've been thinking, and the more I think, the more I realise this plan involves me being tied up, dragged in front of the chief, thrown into a cell, and abandoned until you hopefully break me out—assuming you're not caught, killed, or decide the money is better without me."
Rafael sighed. "Relax. I gave you my word."
"Right, your word," Malrek said, voice pitching higher. "From a man who tackled me, beat me up, almost killed me, and then offered me a business deal while holding a knife."
Rafael gave him a flat look."That's… fair." Malrek continued shaking. Rafael reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder."Listen. You want food. I want medicine. We need this. And I'm not going to let them hurt you."
Malrek stared at the ground for a moment… then nodded slowly. "…Okay." Rafael stepped back."Ready?" Malrek inhaled deeply. "No. Not at all. But let's do it anyway."
Rafael smirked under his hood."That's the spirit."
Rafael pulled a rope from beneath his cloak. Malrek stared at it, eyes widening.
"Oh shit," he muttered. "Hold still," Rafael said. Malrek did not hold still.
"Wait—wait—go easy—my wrists—hey!" But Rafael tied him up anyway, making sure the knots looked convincing. Malrek sighed dramatically.
"This is humiliation," he grumbled. "Get used to it," Rafael replied.
The two began walking toward the village guard headquarters. The path took them straight through the center of town, and though it was late, the streets were still dotted with drunk villagers slumped outside taverns or leaning against walls. Every pair of eyes snapped toward them—toward the tied-up boy being dragged through the night.
Whispers followed. Some pointed. Some laughed. Some just stared. Malrek shrank into himself. Rafael ignored them all.
They reached the small, lifeless guard post—the "main HQ" of the village. A cracked wooden sign hung above the door, dangling on one hinge. Inside were two officers.
One was snoring loudly in a chair, drool dripping down his chin. The other sat nearby, flicking a dull knife between his fingers with the enthusiasm of a bored child. The room smelled of old leather and stale ale. Wanted posters covered the walls, including Malrek's.
The awake officer nearly jumped out of his seat when he recognised the boy.
"HEY! HEY—WAKE UP!" he shouted, kicking his colleague's chair. The sleeping officer jerked awake, blinking blearily—until he saw Malrek. Then he leapt to his feet too, practically glowing with excitement. "It's him!" he shouted. "The little rat! Finally!"
The two officers rushed forward. One of them raised his fist to punch Malrek in the gut—but Rafael's hand snapped up and caught the man's wrist mid-swing.
"My money," Rafael said coldly, his face hidden behind the hood. Only his blue eyes were visible—ice-bright and emotionless. The officer swallowed. "Wh–what money?" Rafael tightened his grip. Bones creaked. "Oooh—THAT money," the officer corrected quickly. "Uh—you'll have to collect it tomorrow. We'll, uh, take the crook now—"
Rafael didn't loosen his hold. He wasn't stupid. If he handed Malrek over now, these two buffoons would dodge him for weeks. "No," he said. "You get the boy when I get the gold."
The officer grunted, annoyed but powerless. He turned to his partner and whispered intensely. After a few seconds, the first officer faced Rafael again with forced calm. "You'll have to wait for the chief," he said. "He's the one who put the bounty on this brat."
Rafael nodded. "Fine." On saying that, one of the guards rushed out to call the chief.
They waited.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and the chief entered—flanked by two armored guards and a girl standing behind them. Rafael instantly recognised her brown hair and green eyes. She was the girl at the chief's house whom Rafael saved the previous night.
She noticed him too—stopped dead—her eyes widening as she stared at the shimmering blue beneath his hood. Rafael looked away.
The chief, meanwhile, burst into wild laughter at the sight of Malrek. He grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked him forward.
"You filthy little rat!" he barked. "You dare attack my home TWICE?"
Malrek flinched but didn't speak.
"Guards! Take him—"
"My payment," Rafael interrupted, still gripping the rope tied around Malrek's wrists.
The chief scowled, annoyed. But after a moment, he reached into his belt pouch and tossed a small leather bag to Rafael. Rafael opened it—counted quickly.
One hundred gold coins.
Worth ten thousand silver.
He nodded once and let go of the rope. The guards seized Malrek immediately, dragging him toward the cells.
The chief's gaze shifted to Rafael. "And who might you be?"
"A bounty hunter," Rafael answered calmly. "From a distant village."
"A bounty hunter?" The chief's face broke into a wide grin. He gestured proudly at the wall plastered with wanted posters. "Then you've stumbled into paradise, my friend! Some of these bounties were placed by great men from other towns and cities. Bring them to me—ALL of them—and you won't just earn riches."
He spread his arms wide.
"You'll earn recognition across the entire province." Rafael's jaw tightened behind his hood.
"I'll think about it."
The chief snorted but seemed satisfied. He turned toward Malrek, who was now being pushed toward the back corridor.
"Lock that thief in a cell," the chief ordered. "At sunrise tomorrow… he will be publicly executed in the town square."
Rafael froze. So did Malrek.
Neither broke character—but the shock hit them both like a hammer. Malrek's face twisted with fear, eyes wide and pleading for help without a word. He was trembling again—worse than before.
The guards dragged him away. As he disappeared down the corridor, Malrek twisted his head—just enough to meet Rafael's stare.
A silent, desperate moment passes between them.