The members of the armed group held a brief discussion among themselves, which ended with two of them being left behind as sentries in the square, while the rest set off to assess the situation in the fortress. After a short time, they returned, and Daiya didn't miss the troubled expression on their leader's face. The figure walked straight to the prisoners and sat down cross-legged in front of them.
"My name is Tyraia l'Amell, but you can simply call me Tyra," she introduced herself. With that, it became clear that she was a woman. "I couldn't help but notice that apart from you, there's no one in the fortress—except for one and a half dead bodies," she paused for a moment, clearly recalling the image of what one and a half dead bodies might look like, "and a pile of creepy wooden debris. I'd like to know exactly what happened."
Gert swallowed hard at her words, clearly unsure how to talk his way out of the situation. "I'm just a simple merchant," he finally declared, prompting Daiya to laugh. What an absurd lie.
"I'm not lying," the man insisted. "I was just delivering a wagon of supplies from a neighboring village when I met them," he nodded toward the other two elves. "I'm an honest trader, I have nothing to do with this. I've never hurt anyone in my life—I couldn't even do it if I tried."
Tyra looked Gert's thin frame up and down, and for a moment Daiya thought she might buy this ridiculous lie—until she spoke again:
"Gertius Merker, I know your kind well. After being caught smuggling multiple times and getting banned by the trade guild, you went into hiding on the southern fringes. Since then, your name has come up repeatedly, mostly in connection with disappearances. Or am I mistaken?" She raised an eyebrow.
"I, I..." Gert opened his mouth, but then closed it. He had no defense. Daiya's lips curled into a satisfied smile, but she couldn't enjoy the moment for long—her turn came next.
"And your name is Daiya l'Onix," Tyra turned to her, pulling a paper from her bag bearing a very lifelike portrait. Of course, they had to be bounty hunters. "Shortly after reaching adulthood, you fled your village with a companion," she glanced briefly at Milo, "who, according to my information, was killed by your pursuers. Your father is very eager to recover the treasure you stole—let alone his daughter."
"What treasure?" Daiya stared at her with wide eyes.
"That won't work on me," Tyra shook her head. "You'd better just tell the truth now."
"Fine," the girl took a deep breath. "The truth is, the only treasure I took with me was him," she nodded toward Milo, "and I have no knowledge of having stolen anything from my father—unless I count as his property."
The bounty hunter sighed.
"That's one way to play it," she remarked, "but I don't see what you gain from it. The contract clearly states we are to return you alive to the village, with or without the treasure. They'll decide your punishment. You'd get off easier if you just talked."
"I already told you—it's a complete and utter lie," the girl repeated. "There's nothing to talk about."
"If you won't talk, then maybe I should ask the boy," the bounty hunter smiled. "I don't have to bring him back alive. In fact, as far as they know, he's already dead."
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Surprisingly, it was the broken Gert who finally broke the silence with a quiet comment. "The boy is mute," he muttered.
"What did you say?" Tyra looked at him.
"The boy is mute," the man repeated. "And feeble-minded. He only listens to the girl and never speaks."
"Really?" The bounty hunter drew her sword and waved it playfully in front of Gert. "And how would you know that? Just a moment ago, you claimed this was the first time you'd met them."
Before the man could lie again and drag them deeper into this mess, Daiya hurriedly cut in. "He lured us here—just like the others. It's because of him that they died!" she explained. For now, she saw no way out of their current situation, so she could only hope that if she provided valuable information about what had happened in the fortress, they would believe her.
"Is that so?" Tyra turned back to her. "Sing more, little bird."
And Daiya willingly began to sing.