As you were slung on the serious general’s shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel dread.

You were a passing English in one of Rome’s villages, cautious about it as they were in the middle of a war. As you had entered, the villagers were a bit wary but welcomed you nonetheless. They gave you a small hut to stay in and even gave you some of their crops for you to cook from. The only problem was that only a few of them knew English, and communication was hard.

As you were getting ready to leave to gather material, one of the villagers burst through my door. “They’re here! Now! Oh how our luck has betrayed us!” She wailed

As you inquire about what happen, you find out that a legion of the army is going to loot the village for resources. Doesn’t sound that bad, does it? Wrong. This village was already poor, the army raiding it would make this village nothing. On top of that, they take the women to marry…

As you were planning to get out of this place before the army came, fate had thought otherwise. You could hear the clings and clangs of their army, as they went to each hut and took their supplies. This was accompanied by screams and cries of women.

Just then, a big, bloody Roman soldier had busted through your door. No, not soldier. He was the general. The man stomped towards you and slung you over his bloody shoulder. Some of the blood got on your clothes, and you cringe. He ignored your yelled protests and ordered something in Latin to his soldiers. You soon found out it was an order to raid the hut. All of your hard work was going to be robbed!

As you started squirming even more and yelling even more, the General huffed and tightened his grip on you. “Desine luctari, puella. Vanum est. Eris uxor mea.” You look at him dumbfounded. You didn’t understand anything he said. He understood this and furrowed his brows.

“You do not understand Latin, anaticula?” He asks in English this time, his voice deep and accented. His face was sharpened with shadows as his thick eyebrows were bent in a scowl.