Roan felt himself hoisted up roughly. At the movement, his blood crusted teeth gritted in pain and his body tensed in resistance. It wasn't natural for his mind to stand this way as his body screamed at him, causing him to curl slightly. The guards didn't allow it and tightened their grip, pulling him up straighter against his will. He gasped audibly at the painful treatment but wasn't surprised because in their eyes, he had commuted the worse act possible in an Kalesian's eyes: treason against the Empress. Weakly the man  pulled his head from side to the other, taking in the two men close to him. On the right was a young, shorter boy with a strong figure and dead stare forward. The soldier couldn't be any younger than nineteen yet he held himself like a man, showing skillful training or undying loyalty to his career. Having enough in his fading memory, he turned to the left. Instead of another youngster, this time there was a much older one. The guard looked likely in his early thirties with a thick mustache and proper appearance for an older veteran. Mentally Roan couldn't keep his head upright any longer. Finally giving into defeat, he let gravity pull his head down and dip down in shame. 

They marched him toward the Embassy. 

Though his mind and form had changed, the filth on his person wasn't so easily vanished. Blood crusted his mouth, cheeks and chin while wafts of hay and dirt covered his exposed skin. For all his strength, he could only stand and barely walk. Still held between the guards, he stumbled forward to keep with their set pace while the fortified residence for the Kalesian embassy loomed closer.

Little pity or empathy shown for Roan, who was still trying to adjust best he could after a long time in wolf form. Balance was the main issue and discomfort rocketed up his foot in each step. He grunted in silence when his heel touched all the way down. It felt so unnatural but he couldn't stop, he knew any plead would've been on deaf ears. It was like walking on hot, jagged stone the longer he stood upright. Roan was surprised he made it to the iron gate without crumble as the doors shut soundly behind him and the small escort inside, trapping him inside. Lost in this thoughts, his mind failed to register his surroundings and instead, attempted to keep between the two men. Feet already started to protest to the rough handling causing him growl a little, his mind fixed in a place part animal and man. For now all he could do was push forward, riding out the bumps and movements jarring his fuzzy senses when they went deeper into the land set aside for Kalesia.  

All around the trio, figures both feminine and masculine, rushed about in tasks set on them due to recent events. This activity continued when they made their ways to the kitchen storage and Roan's eyes flickered to watch them for a moment. Some held within their hands thing from jars to pots, sacked goods and furniture which they hauled away. More and more things being brought out to create a space for the would be traitor's quarters. A shove into his shoulder made the prisoner move again and his teeth bared at the source, snarling at the younger soldier. His narrowed blue eyes and reaction caused the dark haired boy to raise his fist. Appearing to ready a strike, his comrade merely show his head while raising his hand to block the attempt. 

“He's not worth it. Don't bother staining your hands to teach the curl any manners. Instead, help me get him into the room and the chair, so jailer can do the rest,” His breath no longer wasted as he gave Roan a rough nudge into the room. 

On entering there was a heavier set man, less physically fit compared to the three that arrived. His beady eyes stared at Roan and seemed to judge him before his head motioned to the chair. He couldn't run. This was an inescapable truth in both the man and the wolf, his eyes shifted to the seat and made his way stiffly to it. Without any farther struggle, Roan lowered himself into it. His eyes stared ahead while he felt his arms wrenched backwards then bounded in thick, chaffing irons. The sounds of a chain rattled in his ears when they trailed them through the manacles as a rod, thin and metal, separated his hands from each other. It was pulled downward and taunt to the ring just near the chair bottom. Next his ankles were fitted with similar shackles where another rod keep them apart, also pulling back to the ring and out his reach. 

 Once he was secure, the three men double checked the chains and shackles then edged outside. The last man out was the older soldier who paused long enough to spy at Roan with sadden eyes. If he had hoped to catch the prisoner's blue eyes, he was sorely disappointed as the evoker's head rested against his chest until he finally heard the click of the storage door close. His senses shoved into complete darkness and silence.