“So. Admiral Odacer has some...[i]strong preferences[/i] regarding her prisoners.” 

“She explicitly mentioned gags.” 

“And chains. Twice over. For that cat-whoever she sent, too.”

“Who she is...very excited to see again.”

“...”

“...”

“...I don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. Do you?”

“Not at all.” 

“But that’s bad, yes? A lusty Admiral with an army of loyal hounds? Not an ideal situation?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay! Yes. Something to start with. We make for the palace, arrive before them, rescue everyone, sail off into the sunset. How does that sound?”

“I think there may be some missing steps.”

“And it is our job to fill them in as we go. Come, come! They’re fast for old dogs.”

Vasilia tossed Dolce his sword, and raced off without another word through the now-abandoned village. What choice did he have but to follow in silence? The talk was over, the job had begun, and he'd been equipped for service. 

If he didn't want to suffer yet deeper shame, then he'd better make it work.