Dragged into the carriage, Martin barely had time to struggle before a sharp pain in his neck sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. He barely registered the figure of Quinn, who had overpowered him with ease.
When Martin finally came to, he felt an icy chill against his skin, quickly followed by a cascade of cold water splashing over him. The shock jolted him awake, and instinctively, he sprang to his feet. As a former hacker, he had learned to maintain vigilance even in the darkest of circumstances.
Yet, just as he stood upright, a blade pressed against his throat. It was Quinn, sword in hand, with Locke looming beside him, a bucket still dripping in his grip. Behind them, the imposing figure of Busca watched with a cold smile.
"Where am I?" Martin croaked, his hand instinctively moving to his waist, only to find it empty.
"You're in a place where no one will find you," Busca replied, his tone icy. He gestured dismissively at Martin's searching hand. "Don't bother looking for your wand; I burned it. I also took the twenty silver coins from your pocket. Consider it your first debt."
Martin's heart sank as he processed the implications. The loss of his wand was expected, but the mention of a debt caught him off guard. "What debt?" he asked, trying to mask his apprehension.
Busca gestured toward a cluttered table in the corner of the dimly-lit room. A stack of parchment and a bottle of ink sat there, along with a quill pen, suggesting that his captor had something specific in mind.
"You're going to help me create magic scrolls," Busca stated flatly. "I've heard you can write hundreds in just a few days. From today onward, you'll produce thirty scrolls for me daily. As long as you comply, I can guarantee your safety—and Debbie's."
Martin's anger flared at the mention of Debbie. "If you touch her, I swear I'll make you regret it."
Busca chuckled, unfazed. "A mage without a wand is hardly a threat. You should remember that. Besides, this is a business arrangement. Once your debts are settled, you can leave."
"And when will that be?" Martin pressed, though he already suspected the answer.
"Could be one year, two, or even three—whenever I'm satisfied," Busca replied, his greed evident in his eyes. He turned to Locke and Quinn, dismissing Martin with a wave. "Keep an eye on him. I want to know every trick he tries to pull."
As the two swordsmen left the room, Martin felt a wave of despair wash over him. He was trapped in a small, dark space, the air thick with mildew and decay. The makeshift bed was little comfort, and the cluttered table offered no solace. He surveyed the room, noting the dilapidated wooden boxes and the rusted iron armor littering the corners—evidence of neglect in a place that had long been forgotten.
Realizing the door was locked and guarded by two skilled swordsmen, Martin concluded that escape was impossible for the time being. The only window was a tiny hole meant for ventilation, far too small to provide a means of escape.
He turned back to the table, his mind racing. Without his wand, he was powerless to cast spells, but he still had his knowledge of magic scrolls. He knew that the basic scrolls he could create wouldn't be enough to break free from this prison, nor did he have the means to create the powerful scrolls he needed. To do that, he would have to grasp the intermediate and advanced magical languages.
Martin understood the challenge ahead of him. Learning to harness those languages without a guide seemed daunting, yet Busca had unwittingly provided him with the tools he needed. The parchment, ink, and quill were all there, waiting for his creative touch.
As he contemplated his situation, a spark of excitement ignited within him. In his previous life as a hacker, he had thrived under pressure, often forced to innovate and adapt in dire circumstances. Each setback had only fueled his resolve to rise higher, and now he found himself in a similar situation—facing a formidable challenge.
Quinn and Locke may have seen him as a mere prisoner, but Martin knew he was more than that. The opportunity to outsmart his captors was within his grasp. The stakes were high, but with determination and ingenuity, he could turn the tables.
He smiled to himself, a plan forming in his mind. This wouldn't be the end—it would be the beginning of a new chapter in his story.