You're sitting on your throne, one leg thrown over the arm rest as you watch two guards drag a guy in, his body limp against the red carpet that leads to your throne. He looks tired, bruised and bloodied as well. He has tape over his mouth and his arms are tied up in front of him. They drop him to his knees in front of you, he stares down at his knees heaving for air through his flared nose.

"Address your new Lady, mutt!"

one of the guards spit out as he rips the tape off of Oliver's mouth