Juna was actually shocked at the guard’s words, as she expected to be allowed through the gates with nothing but a bit of trouble. Now it seemed that they would be marched onward through the city, straight into cells. In fact, that was what the guard had proclaimed. His actions had made Juna filled with a fury, as it seemed that he had not even a single pang of sympathy for Annara’s well-being. Juna’s weapon, her long steel sword, remained hidden under her coat and easily retrievable to the Elven woman with but a quick sweep of her hand. She looked onwards at the gathered garrison of guards and saw only a pathetic group of third-rate fighters, and she had no fear that she could have their heads removed from their necks in a matter of moments without even a bit of slight assistance from her weary companions. She was certainly filled with enough emotion and enough determination to do so.

Yet the order had come from Lothren that they should not resist. That was infuriating to her. Although it would not have been in their best interests to continue to fight here for all to see, Juna was unhappy that they would simply capitulate with not even a wink of resistance. Such defeatism had never come across Juna’s own mind. Nonetheless, she would follow her orders, simply because she they had come from Lothren.

“On your word alone, I won’t resist,” Juna replied to Lothren in Elvish. “But the result of this is on you.”

And so Juna would subject herself to be marched through town in complete defeatism. She looked at the guard barking orders, gazing at him with a pridefully indignant smile with a level of unbelievable in her eyes. 

Gazing at the guard who walked alongside her with a sword near her, Juna mockingly said, “Pray tell what you intend to do with the sword, young man?”

Juna did not care at all if they beat her for her defiance and arrogance. She may have been convinced to surrender due to Lothren, but she had yet to be convinced that she should surrender her arrogance for meekness. As she was marched through the street like an exhibition for all eyes to see, the Viceni refugees threw whatever they could at her and the rest of her companions. Rocks, bread, rotten food, it mattered not what it was, as long as it could be thrown. 

“Well, well,” Juna said mockingly. “What a warm and pleasant welcoming from the Viceni! I am so glad that even with all the difficulties they face, they still put in the effort to be hospitable to strangers.”

Then they were thrown into a single large cell, cut off from the rest of the world in their darkness. Juna sat down on the flat and cold iron ground, setting herself down as comfortably as she could in the most uncomfortable of all places. It seemed that unfortunately that this place was also more than just a cell with a locked door, as it was barred by an iron slat she couldn’t get out of place from this side.

“Well, Lothren,” Juna said in Elvish. “I suppose now is the moment when you tell us your escape plan.”