"Truly, sirs, I don't understand what that means," Rebat said. His arm hurt from being dragged for so long. The dracon, the one doing the pulling, responded curtly.

"Shut up," he snapped, and Rebat did. Old habits die hard. A while of this silence continued, with Rebat and the two guards going down path after path, before finally ending in an official looking building on the corner of two roads. Then, the guards finally decided to speak.

"Who is your master?" one of them asked, who must have traded his spear away for a whip when Rebat was not looking.

"I have none," Rebat answered. He received for his honesty a swift crack across his nose.

"Don't play dull with me, animal! Who is your master?" shouted the one with a whip. Rebat reached up to his nose to rub where the whip stung, but another strike laid across his hand, bringing it back down.

"I serve His Might Rughoi the Unbound of the Empire at Xigyll," Rebat said, with all the authority he could muster left. The collective laughing of everyone in the room quickly snatched that confidence away.

"Look at this little kobold. Making up names and places just to escape! Figures, crafty little demons they are. Take him into the basement! We'll find who his master is . . . one way or another."