It had been three long days since Bruno's arrival at an unfamiliar port. From the moment he disembarked, an obnoxious sailor had subjected him to a bag over his head, a gag, and tight restraints before confining him within a crate, destined for an unknown location along the shoreline.

Finally, when the bag was removed, Bruno found himself in an underground dungeon. Illuminated sporadically by torches fixed to the walls, casting an eerie red glow, a long corridor stretched before him, lined with numerous cells. He had been deposited in one of them alongside another captive boy, who already showed signs of having endured his imprisonment for some time. The boy possessed a striking countenance with hazelnut eyes, short dark hair, and a relatively healthy frame.

On the other side of the dungeon, in the adjacent cell, two more boys lurked within the shadows, their faces concealed from Bruno's view. Further, down the corridor, a guard stood barely visible due to the distance and dim lighting. To the left, an older man with white hair and a face marred by scars walked alongside the sailor sporting a distinctive red scarf. Bruno's ears perked up as he heard the telltale creak of a door being opened. The two figures entered what seemed to be a separate chamber, enveloping the dungeon in a strange silence. However, by focusing intently on his hearing, Bruno managed to discern muffled voices. After a while, his ears acclimated to the conversation, allowing him to grasp snippets of their discussion.

"It's not an option," the sailor's voice rang out, instantly recognizable to Bruno.

"Look... I can show that kid to him, ay. He will decide for himself. It's always been this way, ay," the older man responded.

"You don't understand... This kid is not ordinary. He needs to vanish," the sailor explained, an undercurrent of urgency present in his tone.

Curiosity gripped Bruno, prompting him to strain his ears further.

"Why?" the scarred man inquired.

"Do you really want to know? Are you sure? I can tell you, but you'll come to regret it," the sailor warned, his words heavy with a sense of foreboding.

A deep sigh escaped the scarred man's lips, reverberating through the dungeon. "Fine. I'll do my best. But how in the hell did you manage to acquire him if he's so dangerous, ay?"

The sailor's response carried a tinge of guilt. "I did a favor for a friend," he confessed.

The scarred man's incredulous voice broke the silence once more. "That must be one hell of a friend, ay."

"He has been taking care of my mother for years. When we were poor, he provided her with the medicine she needed. Even now, she receives a discount at his shop. He is a good man, and this boy is a rat. He was poisoning people left and right. He deserves her," the sailor argued fervently.

The scarred man sighed, contemplating the sailor's plea. "I'll do what I can, ay, but I can't make any promises about Vere accepting him."

The sailor seized upon a potential advantage. "He is different from the local boys. His skin is whiter. That might pique her interest," he suggested.

The scarred man shook his head, skeptical. "Maybe, but Vere is the one who visits and selects the boys, ay. Besides, have you seen his face? Did you beat him up every day, or what, ay?"

"He was causing trouble," the sailor defended himself.

The scarred man's voice brimmed with disbelief. "Enough trouble to leave him starved and battered, ay?"

With a snort of derision, Bruno couldn't help but mutter to himself, "What a liar."

The comment caught the attention of his cellmate, who had been observing him curiously. The boy finally spoke up. "You're not from here, are you?"

The young alchemist raised an eyebrow in response. "Define 'from here'," he challenged, his mind already piecing together the clues from the sailor and the scarred man's conversation, yet still uncertain of their exact location.

"You don't know where you are?" his cellmate inquired.

The young alchemist rolled his eyes. "What gave it away?" he retorted sarcastically.

A faint smile graced the other boy's lips, finally catching on to the irony. "You're in Meshek."

"So, he was telling the truth and actually sold me here," Bruno muttered under his breath, a mixture of resignation and bitterness coloring his voice.

Curiosity getting the better of him, the cellmate pressed on. "Where are you from?" he asked.

"They brought me here from Blackrock. Do you know where it is?" The young alchemist inquired.

The boy shook his head, his curiosity piqued. "No, it's the first time I'm hearing that name."

"It's a city in the north, practically ruled by pirates," Bruno explained, his voice tinged with a hint of intrigue.

Recognition dawned on his companion's face. "Oh! I've heard about a place like that. I just didn't know the name. What do they call you?" he asked.

"I'm Bruno. And you?" the boy replied.

"Hasib," his cellmate introduced himself.

Curiosity prompted Bruno to ask, "So... What are you doing here, Hasib? Were you poisoned and kidnapped like me?" There was a hint of irony in his voice, a shared understanding of their unfortunate circumstances.

Hasib shook his head. "No, my uncle sold me. He's not really my uncle, but since my dad died, he has been taking care of me and my mother. I've called him that since I was very young."

"Thank you for sharing this intriguing story," the young alchemist replied, absorbing the details of Hasib's situation.

"I think he doesn't like my mother anymore, and he sold me to get back some of the money he spent on us all this time," the boy continued, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and resentment.

"Mhm," Bruno murmured, his weariness taking its toll. He moved deeper into the cell, settling down on the ground and leaning against the wall, seeking a moment's rest. His hands trembled from the lack of nourishment, and weariness weighed upon his mind, making him prone to irritability.

The cell door creaked open, and the sailor with the red scarf marched through the corridor, not sparing a glance at Bruno. In his hand, he clutched a small pouch, undoubtedly filled with coins.

Following closely behind, the scarred man stopped between the cells, briefly casting a glance at the young alchemist. It was an opportunity for the outsider boy to observe the man more closely.

A nasty scar traced a path from under the man's right eye, across his lips, and down to his chin. On his left cheek, two intersecting lines formed a prominent X. Several smaller scars adorned his forehead. His hair, a mixture of white and silver, was cut short. His dark complexion made it difficult to discern if it was his natural skin tone or a deep tan acquired from years of exposure to the sun. He donned a sturdy leather jacket secured by five belts, and a collection of knives hung from his belt, ready for use.

It was just a fleeting moment before the scarred man returned to the room, leaving the prisoners alone. Time passed, and Bruno made an effort to avoid conversing with Hasib, finding him irritating. He sought solace in sleep, relishing the opportunity to stretch out his limbs within the confines of the cell.

A portly man visited them several times, bringing bowls of porridge. Though it lacked taste and emitted an unpleasant odor, there was more of it than the meager rations provided on the ship. The older man came and went, but there was always a watchful eye overseeing their captivity. These occurrences hinted at the passing of more than a single day, but the absence of sunlight made it difficult to ascertain the exact duration.

At some point, the old man reappeared, clutching a sturdy stick that could easily double as a bat. He roused the boys from their slumber by scraping the stick across the bars, creating a raucous noise.

"Get up, you rats! Your potential new owner is here, so step out of the shadows and present yourselves, ay," he commanded.

All three boys reacted, except for Bruno.

"I said present yourselves. Don't make me come over there and beat you up, ay," he hissed, his words dripping with menace.

This time, the threat worked. The young alchemist already knew that he was destined to be purchased by someone named Vere, but he was determined to avoid it at all costs, knowing it could lead to his demise.

The man moved deeper into the corridor, momentarily disappearing from view, although his footsteps remained audible.

"Good to see you, Nirav," a voice called from that direction. "Do you have something for me?"

"As always, Vere. We've received a fresh delivery from afar, so you might find it interesting. Something new might catch her attention," Nirav replied.

"Show me," Vere requested.

Footsteps approached once more, and soon a tall, impeccably groomed man with long hair decorated with knickknacks emerged alongside Nirav, whose name Bruno had just learned.

"What do you think?" The old man asked, pointing his stick at the young alchemist.

Vere stepped closer to examine Bruno closely. "He's nothing but skin and bones. And what happened to his face?"

"A minor mishap," Nirav explained. "It will heal, ay."

"He's no good. I'll take this one," Vere declared, pointing at Hasib. "How much?"

"Are you sure? Something exotic might captivate your lady, ay," Nirav insisted.

"I am. How much?" Vere's voice held an unwavering determination that Bruno detected. Judging by his appearance, he immediately associated him with the military, although it was merely an educated guess.

"The usual three, ay," Nirav confirmed.

Vere nodded and produced three silver frigates from his pockets. The money changed hands, and then the old man gestured toward the young alchemist's cell. The guard swiftly appeared, opened the door, and bound the boy's hands and legs, before gagging him. Hasib offered no resistance.

The tall man entered the cell, hoisting his newly acquired slave over his shoulder, and walked away. The cell door slammed shut, but the old man remained, gazing at Bruno intently.

"Didn't work, huh?" the boy taunted.

"Shut your mouth, kid, ay," Nirav retorted.

"There's a man who would pay more than three silver frigates for me," Bruno asserted, though he wasn't entirely certain if it was true.

"Shut your mouth, ay?" The old man repeated, before retreating to his room on the left.

The young alchemist sighed, realizing that escaping from this place would not be an easy feat.