Lucas crouched in front of the bound scout, close enough that the young man could see his scarred face clearly now that the mask was off, and for a brief moment the scout's eyes flickered again, not with fear but with something closer to recognition or resignation.
"Rus or Lechia," Lucas asked calmly, his voice level and controlled despite the storm of thoughts moving behind his eyes.
The scout did not hesitate this time. "Rus," he answered, his voice hoarse but steady.
Lucas nodded once, as if he had already expected it, and then he leaned back slightly. "Good," he said quietly. "That means you still know the difference between truth and defiance."
Silence followed, thick and heavy, broken only by the restless shifting of horses and the wind dragging across the barren land. Lucas waited, giving the young man space, watching his breathing, his posture, the way his jaw tightened whenever anyone else spoke.
