Snakefang's holding chamber was a musty dug-out cave, supported by wooden beams and lit by a dim, flickering candle on a table that was surrounded by the rusty cages inside. There were eight cages, as least so far as Pvt. Dash could see. Eight cages for eight prisoners. Seven of these cages, Pvt. Dash's included, was just tall enough for her to stand upright if she lowered her neck down a bit, just wide enough for her to almost turn her body either way at three degrees, and just long enough for her to fully extend a forehoof outward if she squeezed herself into the bars to her rear. The eighth cage, Sgt. Dust's cage, was large enough for her to move around quite freely.

Pvt. Dash took a glance at Sgt. Dust. She was humming a loud, happy tune to herself as she stretched her wings outward and strutted around in a circle, looking at her squadmates to make sure they were watching.

There was shouting from the shadowed hall in the distance.  “Prisoners! Time for your mid-day ration.”

A legionary in chainmail and visored stahlhelm emerged. One of the regular troops. His horn glowed with an aura as gray as his eyes, beard, coat, and armor. In front of him, he levitated two food containers: one family-size serving bowl full of gruel made from stale barley, and one regular porcelain bowl full of tasty-looking salad.

Pvt. Dash focused on the orange-sized granite bowl in front of her. Everyone except Sgt. Dust had one of these, and they were all smelly from being used over four days without cleaning. Pvt. Dash was emotionally numb at this point. She was always hungry, used to eating plentiful amounts of nutritious food for her athletic pursuits, now reduced to starvation rations.

“Prisoner Three.” The legionary scooped some gruel out of a ladle and dumped it in Pvt. Raindance's bowl.

“Prisoner Four.” Gruel for Pvt. Flitter. As the legionary got closer to Pvt. Dash, she could practically feel the chill from his glazed eyes. Like every other legionary, his empathy was nonexistent.

“Prisoner Five.” Gruel for Pvt. Sky Walker. His father, himself a war veteran, was murdered. Like many of the Equestrian troops deployed here, he was a new enlistee who wanted to fight for his country, just as his father once did. Now, the only thing he'd be fighting would be his own mental decay.

“Prisoner Six.” Gruel for Pvt. Dash. She watched her bowl fill up with gruel. Tiny specks of mold could be seen floating around in the brown soupy food-product if she looked closely enough – a mistake she quickly learned not to repeat.

“Prisoner Seven. Prisoner Eight. Prisoner Nine.” Pvt. Dash didn't bother looking at the other three. Prisoner Nine, also known as Pvt. Parish, once complained about his bowl never being filled completely, and asked for more. After being denied rations entirely for two days, he never complained again.

“Sergeant Lightning Dust.”

Sgt. Dust audibly licked and smacked her lips as she watched her bowl slide in through a slot in her cage. “Wow, sir. That looks really good. Crisp, clean, fresh, not one bit of dirt or mold. An outstanding ration. Would you agree, my good, kind sir?”

The legionary replied, “I would.”

Sgt. Dust looked up to the legionary's glazed eyes with a smile. “Oh, sir. You're so nice to me. Can you remind me why you're being so nice to me?”

“I am to abide by the Legate's orders.”

“Oh, wow.” She looked to the rest of her squad. “Did you guys hear that? Legate's orders. Snakefang is such a kind gentlecolt, isn't he? Really knows how to treat a mare.” She looked back to the legionary. “Can you tell me your name and rank, sir?”

“Gray Stone. Legionary Apothecary.”

“That's good. It's good to be on a name-to-name basis with your POW's, you know. It's a sign of respect. Would you agree, that it's a sign of respect?”

“I would.”

“I'm glad. You can go now. I'm sure you're a very busy stallion.”

The legionary turned to leave the chamber, but then another figure emerged from the shadows: Snakefang, himself.

The legionary saluted Snakefang. “Sir! I have the coronary reports on prisoners one and two ready for your eyes, sir.”

“Hmm. I was actually coming in here to take my dearest little pet out for her walk. But, sure. I would like for you to read both their abstracts to me in full, so the prisoners can hear.”

“Yes, sir.” He slipped two rolls of paper out from his utility belt, then unrolled the first one in front of him so he could read. “Prisoner one, A.K.A. Shining Bright. Guilty of treason and collaboration with hostile forces. Died in captivity. Probable cause of death: Deadly infection, originating from severe open wounds in the rectum and groin. Buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, without ceremony.”

“Hah! I guess he didn't have the balls to brave the infection. Maybe it's not entirely his fault. Slaves aren't exactly known for their cleanliness. Continue.”

The legionary flipped to another page. “Prisoner two, A.K.A. Skippy Sparkles. Guilty of treason. Died in captivity. Probable cause of death: Internal bleeding, originating from severe blunt trauma and tearing in the lower body. Buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, without ceremony.”

“Excellent. I'll be taking those, thank you.” Snakefang took magical grips on the reports. “That will be all, legionary. Dismissed.”

The legionary saluted Snakefang with a “Sir!” then exited the chamber.

Sgt. Dust looked to Snakefang with a smile. “Hey there, sir. What's that I hear about balls? Sounds funny.”

“Oh. Nothing important. A prisoner dropped dead from an infection in the hole where his testicles used to be.”

Sgt. Dust laughed. “They don't call you 'Gelder' for nothing, huh?”

Snakefang laughed with her. “No. They most certainly don't.”

“So, you've decided on taking me out on that date?”

He nodded. “Of course. I've heard nothing but good things about you these past few days.”

“So~ they haven't told you about the way I've been with the other prisoners.”

“Oh, no. They have. Like I said. Nothing but good things.”

Sgt. Dust laughed again. “Man, why was I stuck with the MI? Your army is way cooler.”

“So I've noticed. So, Miss Dust. What is your favorite brand of wine? I have a pretty wide selection.”

Sgt. Dust's smile went away. “I was kidding about that.”

“Does that matter?”

“Yeah.” She paused, then her smile returned. “I prefer beer.”

“Hah!” Snakefang gave Sgt. Dust's head a playful rub. “Beer! Excellent choice, kiddo. Looks like we have a proper Imperial here, trapped in a petite, squishy barbarian body. Absolutely adorable.” He lit his horn. A ring of large steel keys from some shadowed part of the wall was drawn to Pvt. Dash's cage, then stuck into the keyhole in front. The chamber echoed with the clanging of keys. “The Empire makes a fine lager. I would like to see you try some.” Snakefang turned to Pvt. Dash. “Exit. Follow. Now.”

At any other time, she would've told Snakefang to shove it, then bolt out of there, easily escaping with her unparalleled flight-speed. But she was too tired for that, physically and mentally, so she shuffled out of the cage with her head hanging down and her eyes shut. 'Just block it out,' she thought to herself, 'just block it all out.'

“Well, Miss Dust. Here it is.”

Sgt. Dust looked at all the neat toys that were stocked in this dimly lit dug-out room, and was filled with wonder. The rack, the iron maiden, whips of various shapes and sizes, and all sorts of others that she didn't even recognize. The pear-shaped thing on the table, especially, was a bit strange, but the strangeness only added to the collection's whimsy.

Sgt. Dust laughed. “This is awesome! Look at all this stuff. It's like a museum, but cooler.”

“Unlike in a museum, these exhibits are actually used. Extensively.”

“Why?”

“Mostly for my own entertainment, but they are sometimes used to extract confessions. Occasionally information as well, but only as a last resort.”

“A last resort? Why?”

“Information extracted from torture is questionable to say the least. For security reasons, I cannot go into detail, but let me just say I tried it recently and got disappointing results. The Secret Service is better at their job than I give them credit for. Not like it matters. I would have put my focus on the Equestrians either way.” He paused. “So, the real reason why you are here is avenging the death of your Princess Twilight Sparkle, correct?”

“Yeah, it's kinda like that. They called it a 'punitive war'.”

“But the Empire had nothing to do with your child-princess. She had come within our own borders on her own volition. The Kaiser told me to leave her alone to prevent exactly this sort of thing from happening.”

“The Kaiser? He's the one who sent Celestia that little package. It had his seal.”

“It did? Only a member of the Kaiser's family can have a Kaiser's seal, and only with the Kaiser's approval!”

“Well, maybe it was a forgery.”

“Preposterous. The seal cannot be reproduced, and only a very select few have it. Such a forgery cannot have been made unle-…” Snakefang stopped for a second, then growled. “The heretic.”

“Heretic? What heretic?”

He stamped a hoof on the ground. “Your ally, you stupid little girl! A consorter with xenos and ruinous powers, taking up arms against his own nation. Or maybe you'd be better acquainted with that wretched siren who no doubt led him down the heretical path in the first place? Hm?”

“Who?”

He glared at her; his horn charged for an attack. “STARLIGHT GLIMMER, YOU…” He sighed, then dissipated his magic and shook his head. “You are lucky you are so damned cute. You would be dead right now were you not. You are a barbarian. An unusually intelligent and adorable one, but one nonetheless. How am I supposed to think you have the slightest clue about these things?”

Sgt. Dust rubbed Snakefang's armored shoulder and looked into his eyes with feigned concern. She figured comforting him would earn her even more special treatment. “What's got you so worked up, bro?”

“I have fought barbarians of all sorts. Griffin, Zebra, Changeling, Saracen, and your own lot, but I never hated them. They were fun to kill was all, and it was my job. But two things I cannot stomach are TRAITORS AND HERETICS.” He let out a rippling snort. “But I cannot discount Glimmer's role in this. Temptress, weaver of falsehoods, practitioner of the highest order of witchcraft… and most disgusting of all, wants to free the slaves. Blasphemy of the worst sort.”

Sgt. Dust let on a sheepish smile. “Um, have you considered that maybe you were born in the wrong universe?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, but I have a hunch you'd have been happier in, say, the grim darkness of the far future.”

“… the what?”

“You know. The far future. With a god-emperor and a theocratic empire waging war on a galactic scale with xenos, traitors, heretics, and all that stuff.”

“Where are you getting all this from?”

Sgt. Dust rolled her eyes. “Some tabletop game my nerd brother plays. I forget what it's called, but you seem like you'd enjoy it. I dunno who decided that our world needed grim darkness, but he must be bored out of his mind. Seriously, who comes up with this crap?”

Snakefang groaned. “You Equestrians are crazy.”

“Hey, just trying to lighten up the mood. But anyway, I don't get how freeing slaves is disgusting. Isn't more freedom better?”

He shook his head. “You cannot know what is good and holy. You simply lack the capacity. But I can tell you that I got reports of what she said during that blasted speech of hers. And the way she had that traitor spellbound by her singing. No doubt another act of witchcraft.”

“What makes you think that? Maybe he really does believe in… whatever she'd have him believe.”

“Preposterous. He should know from his time in the Academy how sick, evil, and stupid the idea of total equality is. Even the dumbest, greenest legionary would. It is clear that she is using her witchcraft and her siren's call to cloud his judgment and corrupt his soul.” He growled. “Yes, I have reason to believe that she is a siren as well as a witch. Even though our agents listened to her sing the Crusader's Hymn through a distant sound-catching device, they were still mesmerized by her singing.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Cleanse her evil from this world with holy fire. The Wasteland can no longer suffer her demonic presence.” He paused. “I hear she wants to challenge me to an honor duel. Probably why the rock-things are coming here so quickly. A laughable proposition to say the very least, a barbarian challenging a Legionary First Cohort to single combat, and one that I was going to ignore entirely. But now that I have learned that she is the one behind all this, I will gladly accept. I have always wondered what alicorns' blood looked like.”

“And her friend?”

“He must also burn. The pyre is the only cure for a corrupt soul.” He slammed a hoof against his chest and shot his gaze up to the ceiling. “I must begin the bridge assault immediately. I'd wanted to wait for a few more of their cowards to die of whatever their army's been cursed with, but now, there is no time.” He looked back down to Sgt. Dust. “I cannot get into why for security reasons, but Prisoner Six will have to wait. But don't worry. I'll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“I'll let you watch the assault.”

“Meh. Better than staying in that cage.”

“Oh, no, you'll still be in your cage. Your cage will just be moved outside.”

“Hey, whatever, bro. Fresh air is fresh air, and a good show's a good show.”

The muscles below Snakefang's eyes tensed, and those above his eyes loosened. “D'aww. You are just the cutest, most adorable little creature I have ever come across. Oh, I just want to rub those perky little cheeks of yours.”

And rub her cheeks he did. Sgt. Dust felt her lips purse and her cheeks flood with warm pigment as she looked away in embarrassment. Then, Snakefang lit his horn, and Sgt. Dust felt the pits of her wings tingle a great deal. Her wings unfolded reflexively, and despite her best efforts to fight it, she burst into laughter, which only made her more embarrassed, which only made her cheeks hotter and more discolored.

“Stop!” Sgt. Dust said, still laughing. “Come on. This isn't cool. I'm a warrior.”

“Aww. The cute little filly thinks she's a warrior. You want to know how many warriors your country's armed forces have?” He chuckled. “None! I knew you were going to try to ambush me when I left Benn alone. In fact, I do this sort of thing regularly. Do you know how boring it is being a field marshal? It's all desk work. I hardly ever get to get my hooves nice and dirty these days.” He paused. “You're all just a bunch of kids playing make-believe, thinking you're going to be the next… eh, what do you call her? Daring Do? Ah! That's what I'll call you. Dusty-Do. My cute little Dusty-Do. A cutesy name for my cutesy little pet-concubine.”

Sgt. Dust's laughter started to die down. “What the hell is a concubine?”

“Kind of a cross between a slave and a wife. But you'll be more like a pet than a slave. My dearest pet Dusty-Do. Yes, I have all kinds of plans for you after I make you an official concubine. Mmm. Sweet, delicious plans.”

Sgt. Dust's stomach turned. Her smile faded as she was conflicted between the tickling in the pits of her wings and Snakefang's creepy allusions. “But I don't want a family. I'm too young.”

“Don't worry. You will not be forced to suffer motherhood. Mutant foals are snuffed out at birth, as per divine law. You will only be an object of pleasure.”

What little laughter there was left vanished. Her heart rate picked up pace. Each breath was shallow and fast. In her chest, she felt her heart sink. She stuttered. Fear kept her from finding a decent response. She struggled to get words out. “N-no. I… I won't”

“Your consent is a non-issue, my sweet. You have no rights whatsoever in the Empire. No non-citizen does. I'll probably have to keep you in your chamber a bit longer until you learn that.” He laughed. “Yes. I could burst into the Ruusonian prince's palace right now and ravage his daughters, and he couldn't say 'boo' about it. Same goes for you… and the blue one…” He looked back and fourth between Sgt. Dust and Pvt. Dash with audible slobbering coming from beneath his helm, then lit his horn, lifting both of them up off the ground and leaving them fixed in place. “Now that I think about it, you both look very appetizing, and I'm rather famished.”

He looked to the table, and magically tossed the pear aside, watching it fall to the ground. Sgt. Dust and Pvt. Dash both tried to wriggle and shake their way out of Snakefang's magical grip, but no matter how much their nerves fired, their muscles didn't respond. They could only look on, horrified as Snakefang swaggered to the table with them floating nearby, so deeply frozen that they couldn't even use their vocal cords to scream.

Snakefang chuckled. “I might make the blue one my concubine as well. Depends on how well I like her. I admit, I've always had a bit of a thing for pegasi, and you two are the best-looking pieces of meat I've seen in a long, long time…”

It had been a while since Starlight last saw rickety wooden barricades. Yet, here were the walls of Cordelphi, sitting underneath the afternoon sky, just as rotten and filthy as she'd remembered them. Dressed in her toga, she traveled by carriage, with centaurs in marching formation in front of and behind her. She was pulled by recently freed slaves and was kept cool under the roof by another former slave who held a fan in her mouth. These former slaves all had equal marks on their flanks, and all kept permanent toothy grins. Books were stacked all around Starlight, and she magically held in front of her an open book called The Lobotomist's Bible, examining its contents and having her pen held over her pile of loose leaf papers, ready to add whatever she needed to the already extensive compilation of notes she'd made throughout the trip. Being a fast reader was a boon for her, and she always had Checkmate and Imperator to keep her company.

Those two rode on separate chariots next to each other, also pulled by former slaves. They held a chess set between themselves, holding the board and pieces with their respective magics. Starlight, although putting most of her focus on her studies, listened to them speak.

“… and this piece is called the rook,” Checkmate explained. “What it does is it moves either horizontally or vertically, past as many squares as you like. Within the rules, of course.”

“Ah. I see.”

“There's a special little thing you can do with the rook. It's called 'castling'. If the space between your unmoved king and one of your original, unmoved rooks is free, you can move your king along the first row of squares until it's one square away from the corner, and at the same time, place your rook two squares away from that same corner along that same row.”

“I thought you could only move one piece per turn.”

“Yes. That's mostly true. But this is a special case.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Oh, there are plenty of reasons why you would. It gets your rook closer to the middle of the board, and your king in a safer spot, for example.”

“And I suppose I could also use it to move the king to a safer spot should it be put in check?”

“No. That's against the rules.”

“What if I am in check no matter what I do?”

“Then you're in checkmate. It means you lost the game. The object of chess is to get your opponent in checkmate.”

“Hm. It is not to destroy all your opponent's pieces?”

“No. A really good player will be able to get her opponent in checkmate without losing or taking a whole lot of pieces. A lot of pieces lost on both sides generally means the players are both novices.”

“Interesting. And I am to assume you are a really good player?”

“Darling. My name is Checkmate Master. It'd be silly if I wasn't. Of course, I've had a lot of practice.”

“What for?”

“Just a hobby. A fairly productive one at that. Helps keep the mind sharp.”

“Ah. And I would suppose a beginner such as myself playing with a master of checkmates is out of the question?”

“Hmm… no, I don't think it would. As long as I go easy on you, of course. But I think I can teach you to be a fairly decent player with some time. Starlight?” She turned her head to face Starlight. “Would you mind if I taught your partner the intricacies of chess?”

“Sure, sure,” Starlight replied, still reading her book.

Checkmate looked back to Imperator. “There you go. You're white, so you go first. I suggest moving one of your center pawns.”

Eventually, Starlight's carriage stopped in front of Cordelphi's town hall, a humble brick abode that stood three stories tall and had two granite statues of dragons, standing behind the ranks of centaurs that stood at attention for Starlight's arrival, flanking the pavement that led from the road to its doors. Imperator's and Checkmate's chariots stopped behind her. A centaur Legate, one almost her size and made of obsidian that glistened in the light, greeted them with a cohort of centaur legionaries standing in formation, all giving her and her companions a salute closely matching the Imperial salute, but using its right arm instead of its right foreleg. Starlight disembarked from her carriage, and Imperator and Checkmate disembarked from their chariots. Imperator walked up to the Legate to speak with him. Since their conversation was entirely in Reichschpeak, Starlight figured there was no sense in listening in to it, so walked up to Checkmate to speak with her instead.

“So, Checkmate. I hear you and he played some chess?”

Checkmate nodded.

“How is he?”

“Eh. He's alright for a beginner. A surprisingly good sport, too, and he seems to like the game.”

“Oh, that's great!” 'Something a bit more PR-friendly to keep him occupied,' Starlight thought to herself.

“Just curious. Do you play chess at all?”

“Me? Occasionally. Though, I can't remember the last time I've had an opponent who wasn't a complete idiot, so I'm a bit rusty.”

“There was nobody in your old cottage who was not a complete idiot?”

One corner of Starlight's mouth tensed. “I'm afraid not.”

“That is unfortunate. I know how frustrating that can be sometimes.”

Starlight took a glance at Imperator, who had just finished his talk with his Legate and returned his Legate's salute before turning back to talk to Starlight.

“This town is now officially ours. Martial law is in effect here as well. The mayor is waiting in the town hall lobby to speak with you.”

Starlight nodded. “Okay. Let's go, then.”

While walking down the pavement, Starlight examined the statues as she passed by them. Dragons. Mean-looking ones, too. Something like this in Equestria would get the artist's sanity questioned. But here, it was good enough to be placed in front of a town hall, and Starlight would agree. Not good enough for Starlightopolis, of course, but good enough for this place.

When Starlight swung open the doors of the town hall, she was taken aback by a grizzly sight. A large and stocky mare, whose glowing green horn protruded from her pointed white mask made from the same cloth as her white robe that touched the ground. To her right, she levitated the severed head of a blue stallion, which let drop after drop of blood spatter on the puddle staining the white tile floor below it. To her left, she levitated a ring of woven thorny branches.

“Greetings.” Her voice was coarse and rough. “I am an agent of the Imperial Secret Service. I come bearing a message from Legate Snakefang Gelder. For Starlight Glimmer's eyes.” She magically pulled a folded and sealed paper out from underneath her robe and presented it to Starlight.

Starlight shot Imperator a quizzical look. “Why is she dressed like a ghost?” she asked.

“Standard Secret Service uniform,” he replied. “The motto of the Secret Service is, 'Haunted by none, haunts all.' Akin to a ghost, hence the ghost motif.”

She nodded. “Oh. Okay.” She looked back to the secret agent. “Whose head is that?”

“The mayor's,” she replied. “The Legate wants you to know that the Secret Service is nothing to sneeze at.”

The secret agent then looked to Imperator, and said something to him in Reichschpeak. The two then spoke politely to each other in the foreign language. Starlight and Checkmate glanced at each other, neither sure what was going on, but both were surprised at how little hostility came from either party. After they finished, the agent disappeared in a flash of green, leaving the mayor's head to plummet on the ground, and the Legate's letter to nearly touch the ground before Starlight caught it with her own magic.

Starlight brought the letter to her, then observed its seal. The Kaiser's growling wolf. After peeling the seal off, she unfolded the letter and read it.

To: Starlight Glimmer

From: Snakefang Gelder, Reich-Fieldmarshal

If you have received this message, then you have no doubt seen with your own eyes how far the Reich's talons reach. I can assure you that I know far more about you than you will ever know about me.

You talk so haughtily about how you plan to defeat me in single combat. I accept your challenge. You were foolish to present it. The reason why is obvious, and no-one in the Empire would be surprised if you went back on it like a coward. But if you do decide to follow through with it, then I advise you to prepare whatever you can for your passing. It will come in handy.

I stand with the Second Legion, fortifying the north of the bridge as the other five Legions butcher your spineless country-folk. There is no helping them. If you want to help them, you will have to break through us. And should you attempt to do so, you will only break yourself.

Starlight then passed the letter on to Imperator, who skimmed through it.

“So,” he said, “what my Legate said was true. Snakefang has decided to block off the bridge crossing.”

“Yep.”

“Snakefang is right, you know. The Second Legion is perfectly capable of defending that crossing from anything we could throw at it.”

“Hm. We still have that thing, right? The… you-know-what?”

“Yes. It is perfectly safe.”

“Can we use it on the Second Legion? Hmm. Then the Legate will probably die, which means I can't kill him in the duel.”

“Which means you cannot earn the Praetorians' favor.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Then I suggest we follow through with our original plan.”

“Really? Even though this happened?”

“Especially since this happened.”

“But we didn't want to fight any of the Legions.”

“I think avoiding that is still possible, assuming Bright served his purpose well enough.” He looked to Checkmate. “You say you write speeches, correct?”

Checkmate smiled. “I do. My work is quite excellent, if I say so myself, and results don't lie.”

“Would you help me write a speech of my own?”

“What kind of speech did you have in mind?”

“A new era speech. Like the kind Starlight gave in Starlightopolis. We can discuss the details later, but suffice it to say I would like to adopt similar rhetoric for an Imperial audience.”

“Can I help?” Starlight asked.

“You need to focus on your studies,” Imperator replied. “It is bad enough you need to balance that with preparing for your fight with Snakefang. Let Checkmate have her moment in the sun. This is why we invited her to the team in the first place. You are doing so much already.”

“Yeah. You're right.” She looked to Checkmate with a smile and a pat on the back. “Go on. Write his speech. Make it the best speech you've ever written.”

“Thank you, Starlight. You won't be disappointed. Neither of you will.”

The quaking of the ground threw Sgt. Dust on her side from off her four-hundred-twenty-second wing pushup, and rattled every cage in the chamber. The sound of clanging metal filled the air. The candle that lit the room fell over. Its flame was then extinguished, leaving the whole room in darkness. All of Sgt. Dust's squadmates began a symphony of distressed moaning and groaning. She, herself, remained silent except for her quick and heavy breathing. The floor shook too violently for her to feel confidence in standing up, and there was really no point to it, so she laid there on her side until the shaking ended with an ear-splitting boom from outside. After that, the room was quiet, save for the distant shouting of legionaries who claimed that a meteoroid had fallen down from the heavens and destroyed Brustworth Bridge.

Some claimed it was their mysterious god, and others claimed it was some trick from Luna or her sister, but not one denied that it happened.

Sgt. Dust continued to lay motionless on the ground, listening to the commotion from outside. Several hours were spent in the dark, eavesdropping on speech that was often an unintelligible garble for how much of it was coming to her at once. It was boring, but she was used to boredom by now. At least, she was until her visit from Snakefang a week or two ago. After that, boredom gave way to far worse things. She had dedicated all her focus to the speaking outside, and just when her mind began to slip into places where she didn't want it to, a gray light marched down the hall, followed by seven more lights of different colors following from behind it.

Once they came close enough, they revealed the faces of legionaries. One of them was familiar. It was that of Apothecary Gray Stone, their primary caretaker. Sgt. Dust had always gotten along well with him. As well as someone like her could get along with someone like him, anyway. Perhaps he knew what was going on.

“Hey!” she called out. “Gray Stone! What's going on?”

The eight legionaries each faced one of the eight cages; Gray Stone happened to be in front of Sgt. Dust's cage.

“Hey! Gray Stone! Tell me what's going on!”

He looked to one of the legionaries behind him. “Permission to tell her, tent-leader?”

“Granted,” the tent-leader replied.

Stone's emotionless eyes met Sgt. Dust's, and he replied, “Brustworth Bridge has been destroyed. That means the way south has been cut off, which means our Legion no longer has any reason to be here. We are moving out.”

“Moving out? Where?”

“To Benn. We will hold out there until the war south of the bridge is finished, and another crossing is built. The Legate wants to make taking Benn by storm impossible, so that the other force will be forced to starve it into submission, thereby giving the other Legions the time they need.”

“Well, where will I go?”

“The citadel dungeon.”

Sgt. Dust felt the cage lift up in the air from below her, surrounded by a gray aura. The seven other cages were lifted in seven other magical auras. Once each legionary turned back and left the chamber, a cage levitated next to him. After every other cage was on its way out, Gray Stone turned around, and carried Sgt. Dust with him. She smiled, looking forward to some fresh air and a change of scenery. Hopefully, she could start putting all this behind her. Next Chapter: Chapter 24 Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 21 Minutes