United Kingdoms

Coming to his senses, the bandit didn't immediately understand what had happened, and then he spat in Helmuth's face.

*PARRY*

- Don't be rude! - he punched the prisoner in the stomach. - Or your stitches will come undone. I only need one thing from you: tell me where your hideout is and how many of you scumbags are hiding there. If I like your answer, I'll let you go. I'm an honest guy, and I'm in a good mood, and you offered to surrender fairly. You'll continue to harass and kill peasants, but in a different forest. But if you don't tell me, do you see that guy over there? He's the craziest one we have, and his leg was torn off by your trap. He'll slowly tear you to pieces, cut off your limbs, castrate you - after which your stitches definitely won't heal - and throw you into an anthill or something. That's how your life will end, and you won't get to your god on your knees, or whatever you goat-f***ers believe in. You'll sacrifice yourself for some losers who don't care about you, but we and the guys will find them anyway. So, do we have a deal?