"In you go," Xander said, his voice dripping with satisfaction, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets as the guard already stationed in the holding area pulled open the heavy wooden cell door. Samuel and Marcel didn't waste time. They gave Orion a rough shove forward.
Orion stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet, but managed to steady himself before his momentum died. He straightened up, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in silent anger as the damp cold air of the dungeon bit at his skin. The heavy clang of the cell door shutting behind him followed by the echoing click of the lock made his stomach twist.
He turned around sharply just in time to see Xander giving the guard a nod before stepping past him, his boots echoing faintly on the stone floor.
A narrow barred window near the top of the cell door allowed Orion a limited view of the outside. From his angle, he could only see the chest and face of anyone standing directly before it. Through those bars, the first thing that greeted him was Xander's wicked grin — a smile that screamed mockery and satisfaction.
"It's not the best accommodation," Xander chuckled, tilting his head with a cruel smirk, "but compared to where you normally live, this shouldn't be that hard to get used to."
Orion turned away from him and scanned his surroundings. The cell was bare — nothing more than a cramped, damp box made of rough stone walls that smelled faintly of mold and iron. A scrappy wooden bed stood by the corner, its legs uneven and its surface layered with dry hay that looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time. There were no comforts here — not even a bucket of water or a place to take a shit. Clearly, whoever was locked up in this place was meant to be as uncomfortable as possible. Expecting anything better would have been naive.
"I guess you got what you wanted," Orion said finally, his voice heavy with annoyance and defiance as he turned back toward the door.
"What was that?" Xander asked, stepping closer and gripping the cold iron bars between them. His eyes gleamed with a mix of arrogance and curiosity.
"You wanted me locked up for stealing your carrier," Orion replied coolly, folding his arms. "No… you wanted me locked up long before that. After all, that was your reason for coming to my home."
He began to walk slowly toward the cell door, his boots scuffing against the stone floor. When he stopped, he was just close enough that the vertical bars divided their faces. "So, tell me, Alexander—what deal did you make with my brother? I'm already behind bars like you wanted, so why don't you go ahead and brag? I know you're dying to."
Orion fell silent for a moment, his expression darkening as a thought crossed his mind. His brows furrowed. "Wait a minute. Now that I think about it. Uhh, so that's what's going on here."
Xander raised one eyebrow, intrigued by the confidence in Orion's tone.
"You're the one who did what the chieftain accused me of, aren't you?" Orion said quietly, his eyes sharp with sudden realization. "It's the only thing that makes sense. You messed up. You got messy and intimate with the chieftain's daughter, and needing someone to blame, you made a deal with Eden. I take the fall for your actions, and in exchange, you give him whatever was in that bottle you handed over at my house. My only question now is—what's in it for him? What was in that little bottle you were so happy to trade?"
For a brief moment, Xander looked genuinely surprised, his grin fading. Then, just as quickly, he began to chuckle. The sound was low and mocking at first, but it grew into an open grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"Well," Xander said after a moment, leaning his head slightly. "Looks like I was wrong again."
"Wrong?" Orion repeated.
"There is a level of intelligence in that head of yours after all," Xander said with a faint sneer.
"So I'm right then," Orion pressed. "You're the one the chieftain's looking for."
Xander gave an exaggerated shrug, his grin never fading. "Do you want a congratulatory clap for figuring that out?" he asked, then started clapping slowly, each clap echoing mockingly through the dungeon before he stopped after five deliberate slaps of his hands.
He exhaled through his nose and leaned forward again, gripping the bars tightly. "I know what you're thinking, thief. You're probably planning to tell the chieftain the truth. But you and I both know it won't work. After everything you've said and done, after how much he hates you right now, do you really think anything you say will make him believe you—especially if it's against me, a member of the Supplementary Military Corps?"
"I wasn't even planning to do that," Orion said flatly, cutting Xander off.
Xander blinked, then chuckled. "Oh? You weren't? That's… surprising." His smirk faltered slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Orion's tone had changed—colder, more calculating.
"I'm wise enough to know my chances against a given opponent," Orion replied calmly, "so why would I waste my energy trying to turn the chieftain against you? The truth doesn't matter here—only what the person in power chooses to believe, which in this case is the chieftain. For all I care, I might as well have done what you framed me for, because I'm already living out the punishment." Orion clicked his tongue and looked away, his mood souring.
"Such a profound mindset for someone your age," Samuel muttered, sounding almost impressed despite himself.
Marcel snorted and crossed his arms. "You talk about knowing your limits and sizing up opponents," he said. "Strange words coming from someone who thought it was a good idea to steal from members of the Supplementary Military Corps."
"I was just about to say the same thing," Xander added with a smirk, looking from Marcel back to Orion. "What happened, thief? Didn't take your own advice?"
Orion didn't flinch. His expression remained steady and unamused. "You're the one who got stolen from," he said coolly. "And you couldn't even catch me until I was already home — which only happened by sheer coincidence, since you didn't even know it was the house of the guy who stole your precious carrier. So tell me, Alexander—do you really think I didn't take my own advice, or were you just lucky?"
Xander's grin faltered, replaced by an irritated scowl. "This sharp-mouthed rat," he muttered through his teeth.
Orion chuckled quietly to himself, which only seemed to infuriate Xander further.
"You want to talk big, huh?" Xander shot back. "Even though you're the one locked in a cell, and I'm standing free?"
Orion sighed and looked up at the filthy ceiling, noticing cobwebs swaying gently with the air currents. Then he looked back down, his expression thoughtful. "When I finished yelling and finally got some time to think while we were on the way here," he said, "I realized something important."
Xander folded his arms. "And what's that supposed to be?"
"Everyone in town saw me get arrested," Orion said simply.
"So?" Xander frowned. "What difference does that make?"
"This is a small town," Orion explained, his voice measured. "Not small in landmass, but small in spirit. People talk. They notice. How long do you think it'll take before word spreads that I'm being kept in the chieftain's basement?"
Xander narrowed his eyes, while Marcel and Samuel exchanged puzzled glances, unsure where Orion was going with this.
"Sleeping with the chieftain's seventeen-year-old daughter — as someone who's a year younger than her — isn't exactly the most catastrophic accusation one could face in the grand scheme of things," Orion continued, his gaze sharp. "That's probably what Eden thought too when he handed me over in exchange for that bottle you gave him. But here's the thing — once people start gossiping, they'll want to know what happens to me next. And if I suddenly disappear, that'll raise questions — questions the chieftain won't be able to answer without drawing suspicion. And suspicion is the killer of public trust, which is — from what I've heard — something the chieftain values a great deal. Even if I'm beaten, it can't be too much, because I'll have to show my face in public again, and looking like I was treated beyond what the crime deserved would only cause a riot."
A tense silence followed his words.
Samuel and Marcel looked at each other, then back at Orion, who stood calmly behind the bars, his expression unreadable.
Even Xander seemed momentarily thrown off by the depth of Orion's reasoning.
No ordinary sixteen-year-old should have been thinking that far ahead — especially not one from a quiet, rural town. The realization settled like a weight between them, and for the first time since they had met him, Xander and his companions began to wonder whether they had severely underestimated the boy now trapped behind the cell door.