Sentinels and Saviors [CRP]

[Andy]

Tiras sighed angrily. What is it about that man that pisses me off so much? 'Train them with lances and archery,' he says. They were brought up playing chumps and using a pitchfork for hay and an axe to split logs. Typical high-rank blueblood, never even glances at the peasantry or the low gentry. I don't suppose I was much better before I was squired to Sir Adrian. And how the blue blazing BLOODY hell did he guess that? "Don't need to. Already killed more of those bastards than you, Hyperion. Were you listening to how I gathered my forces or were you stuffing your earwax deeper in?" he muttered to the empty air after Lennox left. My countrymen's blood stains my hands. But I've known that since I ran off with Sir Verde. Rebels can't afford to have countrymen until they aren't rebels any longer, or until they're dead.

With that sobering thought, he waited as the lamps got closer. More of the wagons than five appeared around the corner. This transport was meant to take all of the prisoners, apparently. He couldn't see the faces of the wardens, but with the deep shadows and the harsh orange lights of the fires they'd re-lit, that was understandable. It was difficult to make out who was in charge of the column, since everyone was on foot. Usually the captain was on a horse.

Ten large wagons lined the road in front of the prison. At last, from the rear, a woman rode slowly, her horse taking a very deliberate pace. She looked back and forth at her own soldiers, with an expression Tiras was too far away to read, and then looked up at the walls. She had a beautiful face, but it was twisted by hate and bitterness. Her eyes were thin, her straight, dark hair fell down her back in a river of darkness, and her mouth twisted in a sneering smirk of amusement, likely at the fate of the prisoners the woman thought he was going to be handing them. Her armor was dark as well, as black as the coat of her horse, with a caparison to match. The only thing she was missing was a burning spear and sword and she would be the picture of a demonic knight out of hell.

"Hail, Traitor's End! Apologies for the delay, one of our wagons got a wheel stuck in a hole on the road. What of you? No troubles this night?"

Tiras wondered at the tone, but answered back in a steady enough voice, "There were some troubles, unfortunately. A small band of rebel scum attempted to lay siege earlier tonight; hence we shut the gate up, to kill them. We only barely finished cleaning up after their mess before you arrived. And this is to say nothing of our prisoners this day: they are a rowdy bunch, difficult to handle at the best of times. Will you perhaps help us to get them into their cages?"

"Of course, of course," she said, gesturing.

"Open the gates!" Tiras commanded. He felt his gut tighten. This is it.