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The sound of dripping water filled Konstantin's ears.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings, as he tried to ignore the pulsing pain in his forehead. A groan escaped him.

"So, you're awake?" A voice questioned.

Konstantin had trouble focusing on the words, as if they were foreign to him. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. Stone, all around him. Bricks. Puddles. Bars?

He suddenly understood. He was in a prison. Why was he in a prison? He held his head. Why did his head hurt so badly? He remembered...

"Ignoring me?"

The memory faded. Konstantin searched for the source of the voice. He looked around, and found it. There was a man, sitting in the corner. "Who..." Konstantin's voice felt strained, and he cleared his throat. "Who are you?"

The man chuckled. "You can call me Scipio, not that names are worth a damn down here. Yours?"

"Konstantin."

"Konstantin... Are you from the north?"

His eyes began to adjust. The voice came from a man, older than Konstantin by a few years, with Aurelian features. "I am. I was a... A trader. I travelled and... I don't..."

"Don't hurt yourself. The guards tossed you in here while you were unconscious, you hit your head pretty hard. Don't worry, it'll come to you." Scipio was quiet for a moment. "A trader? What did you do to get yourself thrown in here with the likes of me?"

Scipio's eyes glimmered, as if he made a private joke. Konstantin frowned.

"I don't... I didn't do anything. I just... Woke up here. The last I remember I was exploring a ruin..." He frowned. Why couldn't he remember past that? "What day is it?"

"The fifth."

"That's... I've been here four days?"

Scipio raised an eyebrow at this. "You've been here no longer than six hours." He frowned, "what did you get up to that made you lose four days?"

A shrug was all Konstantin could reply with. "What did you do to get tossed in this hole?"

Scipio's features darkened. "I... Killed. I'm a murderer."

Konstantin nodded. "If it makes a difference, you're nothing like any murderer I've met."

A bark of laughter escaped Scipio's throat, and he shook his head. "No, I suppose I'm likely not." Footsteps echoed down the corridor. "Ah, the hangman calls."

A shock ran up Konstantin's spine. "Hangman? What do you mean? We're not..."

Scipio stood, and stretched. "You're a priority prisoner, Konstantin. We're going to be executed today." He paused. "Sorry."

Konstantin pushed himself to his feet, "No, that can't be, I..." He eyed Scipio. "You're short."

He felt a strong blow to his stomach, and his knees buckled. Scipio caught him. "Ah, sorry, I slipped." He helped Konstantin stand, and slapped him on the back. "It'll be fine. I'll buy you a drink when we're done."

The door opened, and an armed guard holding manacles and two black bags entered the cell. Scipio presented his wrists, and Konstantin followed suit. The cool metal of the manacles held him tight, and his vision went black as the bag was put over his head. The bag smelled of vomit and death. It seems they hadn't cleaned it since its last use.

The walk to the gallows was the longest in Konstantin's memory. Each step felt like a thousand miles, each breath agonized and burned as it escaped his lungs. Finally, after an eternity, a hundred thousand miles, a million painful breaths, the walk was over. He could feel a thousand eyes on him, and his pulse quickened. The low buzz of a large crowd filled his ears.

"So, Scipio." A voice, unfamiliar to Konstantin, cut through the background noise. "Finally, after all these years, it gets to be me that ends your pathetic little life."

Konstantin felt Scipio tense beside him, followed by a low chuckle. "Oh look, the bean's come to see my death in person. How cute."

There was the sound of sudden movement, and Konstantin heard Scipio exhale sharply and stumble.

"You always knew exactly how to piss me off, didn't you, Scipio?" The voice seemed pensive. "A shame that you won't be able to engage in your favourite sport any longer. Guardsman, prepare the prisoners. The crowd grows restless."

Footsteps, and Konstantin knew the man had walked off. Rough hands pushed him up a set of stairs, and onto a block. A noose was hung around his neck, and his breath caught in his throat. "Scipio, after this, a drink, yes?"

He could feel Scipio grin. "A drink. I know just the place, in Jier. I haven't been there in ages." A voice began announcing the prisoners to the crowd, but the meaning of the words was lost to Konstantin.

"Jier... Yes, the farming province to the south. I've never been to Jier." The crowd began to jeer and chant, demanding the death of the prisoners.

"Hm, seems we'll need a larger block for this one, the rope won't reach his neck..."

Scipio stamped his foot. "Get on with it!"

The floor fell out from under them, a sudden snap.

Konstantin's feet struck ground. He heard the muted roar of the crowd.

He paused for a moment. "Am I dead?"

"I don't know. Am I?" Scipio's voice replied.

The ground shook, and collapsed out from under them.

A splash, and a cold rush struck Konstantin. He felt himself go under, and he struggled to surface. The bag floated off his head as he broke the surface, gasping.

"Scipio!"

"Here!"

His eyes wild, Konstantin swung himself around, orienting himself to Scipio's voice, trying to stay surfaced, his manacled hands useless to him. "How did we survive?!"

"The rope! Look! The ropes snapped!"

Konstantin's eyes followed the rope floating beside him, and found the frayed end. His eyes widened. "Impossible..."

"Luck, my friend! Go!" He felt something press against him, forcing him forward. "You don't need to swim you idiot, it's not that deep! Run!"



A guardsman approached the pavillion of General Crispus Fabius, and bowed as he entered.

"Sir, the prisoners.."

"What is it? Did they shit themselves? The dead tend to do that." A chuckle escaped Crispus. He thought to his earlier conversation with Scipio, and a smile spread across his face. He adjusted himself on his reclined couch, and took a sip of wine from the goblet in his hand.

"N-no, sir, it's.." The guard shifted uneasily.

"What?"

"They.. Um, the ropes.. Snapped." The words caused the guard a great deal of discomfort, as if he could hardly believe he was forced to say them.

Crispus righted himself in his seat, "What."

"The ropes.. They've.. Snapped."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, go fetch the prisoners and do it again!" He set aside his goblet, feeling his blood begin to boil.

The guard hesitated, and winced. "Um, well, sir, the ground under the gallows.."

"If you say a single word that could mean the escape of our prisoners..."

"The ground... Collapsed beneath their feet."

A scream of primal rage tore out of Crispus' throat, and he began barking orders demanding the hunt for and capture of the escaped prisoners.



A shiver ran up Konstantin's spine as he pushed himself out of the drainage pipe and into the field below.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yeah... It was like... Anger." For some reason Scipio couldn't stop himself from smirking. He wondered what that meant.

Konstantin shrugged, and began beating the manacles on his wrists against a rock.

"That won't work, here let me-"

Konstantin looked up at him, the manacles smashed and broken. Scipio stared at him, his face unreadable. "Now do mine."

Konstantin obliged. "So... What now?" He rubbed his wrists, which were chafed and reddened from the rough metal of the manacles.

Scipio shrugged. "Now? Well, I suppose we should run. I'll be heading south, if you have any interest in that. Or perhaps we should split up, so they don't catch us both. It's really up to you."

Konstantin hesitated. He wasn't sure why he was in prison, but he was a fugitive now, no matter the reason.

"Just so you're aware, all hell will be after us... Crispus won't just sit idly by while I'm out free. He'll send his legions after us, mercenaries, dogs, bears, gardeners... Anything he can find that he thinks may help him find me back in the noose."

A small smile spread across Konstantin's lips. "Gardeners?"

Scipio blinked, and returned the smile. "Notoriously dangerous, gardeners."

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Konstantin began walking. Scipio took his place beside him. "So, you were a trader, yeah? Tell me about that."



The fire burnt low, a rabbit on a spit slowly rotating over the flames. "Keep it low, or else they're sure to find us."

Konstantin nodded, and continued to work. "So, a murderer, hm? Who'd you kill?"

Scipio grew quiet. "I killed... Thousands."

A pause, and Konstantin nodded. "Well done."

"It's not a joke!" Scipio snapped, his voice suddenly harsh.

"I'm sorry, I just.."

"No... No, you can't have known. I... I was a general. I commanded the Fifth Legion."

Konstantin blinked, and frowned. "You can't be older than thirty, how is that possible? I..." His tongue became lead in his mouth. "You're Scipio Marcellus."

It was Scipio's turn to be surprised. "You know me?"

"Know y- You directed the campaign against the Lithnian rebels three years ago. You're the youngest man to command a legion since Gaius Servius a century ago!" He seemed thoughtful for a moment, "I heard you were dead."

"You... Certainly know your history." Scipio frowned, though a small smile was visible on his lips. "Well, I'm not. I've been rotting in various prisons across the Empire for the better part of the three years between Lithnia and now." He sighed. "Treason, they said."

The silence between the two grew thick. "But... That's history, isn't it? Old men and older laws, that's the Empire today." Scipio stood, brushing dirt off his knees. "Finish eating, we'll head out n-"

Scipio was cut off by a shovel swinging through the air, striking him in the face. "Scipio!"

"Ah-ah-ah, hush now." A voice from the brush whispered, and a man emerged, dark and imposing. His finger ran along the edge of the shovel he held in his hand, a large axe swinging freely at his hip. He pointed the shovel at Konstantin like a blade. "Now come along pretty boy, we're going to have a nice meal." His mouth split into a grin, revealing sharp yellowed teeth.