[i]Headache[/i] was the first word that popped into Felix' head when he started to wake up. His head was pounding, like on a morning after drinking too much Nord Mead. The world was all grey and black, without colours. Felix could hear sounds, a blurry bundle of voices talking, the wind was howling. He was being carried on someone's shoulders, tied and bound like a pig ready to be slaughtered. On his cheek a blood stain had dried, but it seemed that his head was fine.

There were three men, Felix noticed as his vision improved. He couldn't see them clearly in the night, but the stars were alight, and lighted their steps in the hilly terrain. "Carry on, Buttercup, we're almost at our post" one of the Forsworn said. "Soon we could can roast him on the fire and interrogate him about the camp's defence."

"Don't call me that, you know how much I hate that name. Next time I'll throw you down a cliff" the man who had been called the Buttercup grunted. "You don't have to carry a burden."

"Have it then by your way, Conan, but next time, don't miss with the bow. Arrows like the one you missed aren't very common in caravans." The men continued in silence, only grunting and panting while running and walking toward their post, where ever that was.

Felix tried to keep his calm. He wasn't dead yet, and it was quite comfortable to be on someone's shoulders. The man who carried him was a large one, and thick with muscle. It seemed that he could navigate through the hilly terrain as easily as a mountain goat.

[i]Heck Felix, you just keep on running into trouble, but it could be worse[/i], he thought, trying to reassure himself. [i]Just keep the act on and you'll survive this.[/i] His legs felt numb, mostly because the rope around his legs were so tight. He didn't dare to move them, fearing that the men noticed he had awoken.

The climbing just went on and on, and the trio stopped only a couple times to catch some breath or to figure out a path. When Felix was thinking that the climbing and running wouldn't end, they halted for good and he was put down. Conan the Buttercup wasn't very gentle at it, and Felix grunted noisily. "Ouch!" he almost howled.

"Oh, the bastard is finally awake. Do you want to wake the whole countryside?" one of the other men asked rhetorically. "Deeds like that often make living men dead."

[i]Act cool[/i]. "Well, try yourself being tied and bound for gods know how long, and don't complain" Felix said without much of a thought. He was numb and hurt, and his fast tongue had always been his worst enemy.

"A spiky one, aren't you? A true [i]fighter[/i]" the man said, with a voice full of pride and mocking tone. Felix saw that he had a fine steel armour and a black iron sword. His face was hidden in the darkness. "Your handiwork was just bad. Luckily, we needed a captive to be interrogated, and you were the right man at the wrong place. Now, tell us how the camp is defended. How the guards hold watches, start from that. If we like your answers, we might just cut off your legs instead of roasting you alive on a fire. Your choice."

[i]I have no option but to lie, but that's what I was taught to do my entire life. To lie and tell stories.[/i] Felix started to talk, telling all kinds of lies and weaved a net like none other. And the Forsworn believed him.