A Rebel In The Ranks

Chapter 1

Oleandra kicked and screamed as the guards pulled her along the dimly-lit hallway, her legs dragging along the ground. She refused to go without a fight. She couldn't believe she had gotten caught. 2 Generals in and she had started to get cocky. By the 3rd Legatus, she had been arrogant. And now, she'd been captured. She tried not to think about what they would do to her? Kill her? Maybe, but Romans weren't too keen on letting their enemies off easy. Torture her? Maybe for information on her guild or the Insurgio Tribes, but they knew they wouldn't get anything out of her. Then there was the most likely one, if she couldn't be used to further the war effort, they'd ignore who she was and use her, rather, for what she was - a girl in the middle of a large, lonely army of women-less men. Of all three options, that one seemed by far the worst. She didn't fear pain and she certainly didn't fear death, but just thinking about being violated in that way made her shake with fury and fear. All she knew was she had to get away. 

She had to. 

So she thrashed and lashed out at the soldiers, knowing her attempts were futile, but unwilling to be broken so easily. Even now, she knew none of her training could help her. In the back of her mind all she could think about was that, even if she did manage to free herself from the soldiers clutches, she wouldn't make it two feet; would never make it out of the compound, would never be free again. But in defiance, Oleandra resorted to more primitive forms of attack. She tried to kick out at their legs but it was too difficult to lift them as they dragged behind her. She tried to swing herself back and forth between their arms in order to free herself, but her hands were tied behind her back and their arms were wrapped through hers, pulling her along by her elbows.

She wondered why they hadn't gagged her yet. Romans were all about precision and order and she didn't think they'd take kindly to a crazed prisoner yelling through their hallways. Then, she realized why. The soldiers led her to a set of large double doors, the shiny black oak glinting in the light of the torches. The soldiers posted outside the doors nodded at each other and slowly pushed them open. When she saw what was inside through dirty, matted strands of black hair, her breath caught. A large room filled with soldiers. Hundreds of them. They were all on large marbe steps, lining the length of the semicircular room. Each level was large enough to accomodate tables and some men were sitting down and eating. Others were drinking heartily or gambling or simply joking with their comrades. But as the guards brought her to the center of the room, all the noise stopped and the soldiers stood at attention. All 200 of them silently facing her. She understood now why they hadn't bothered to silence her. It was out of cruelty. The Romans liked allowing their prisoners that small act of defiance and hope only because they enjoyed seeing it ripped away when the magnitude of the captured's situation hit them. That they were in fact, doomed.

Oleandra was thrown by the soldiers and landed on the cold marble floor with a thud. She writhed around on the floor, fighting against her bindings in an attempt to bring herself upright. The guards beside her stood still as stone, none making any movement to help her. There was an intricate design made out of thousands of marble tiles, and large, minutely carved pillars that stretched from floor to ceiling, their white marble unblemished. Torches lined the walls, the light glinting off the large metal plates of the soldiers' armor. In one word, the room was grand. But Oleandra wasn't paying attention to it's beauty. 

Instead, she looked at the man seated on a marble throne in the center. He seemed to radiate power as he lay in his chair, resting in a leisurely position. Officers lined him on both sides. The Legatus was smiling at her, but their was no kindness in his eyes. There was a sort of triumph or dark pride. Like he was proud of the fear that this room made her feel and of his victory over her. But she didn't let him see any of that, her face hidden beneath the tangled mass of hair.