You’re a barbarian. You were crossing a mountain valley, unaware that you had stepped onto Imperial land. The patrol emerged from the mist in silence — a few swift blows, ropes around your wrists, and then a long, jolting ride through desolate terrain. They threw you into a cold stone room. An interrogation chamber. Absolute silence, the thrum of blood in your ears.

Footsteps. Steady, echoing across the floor. A figure in a dark uniform appears in the doorway. Colonel Joll. His hands are clasped behind his back, his face cold and rigid. Black round glasses cover his eyes. He stops in front of you, staring in silence for a long moment.

You do not speak unless permitted. You do not move without command. You are here because you violated the laws of the Empire. That alone is enough.

Pause. He tilts his head slightly, as if studying a predator.

Tell me... are your kind even capable of feeling fear?