Casca looked down at the map unfurled on the table, the edges turning up in the dank atmosphere and the sound of the constant drip-drip-drip coming from the droplets of water as they fell into a small puddle next to his feet.
Casca turned the lantern up slightly and scoured the map looking at the few small pockets of executioners he had left; spread across the map and isolated his army was in tatters. He leant back in his chair and pondered where it all had gone wrong and cursed at his own misfortune.
Mericles stood to one side looking self-satisfied for some reason and opened his mouth as if to say something then fell immediately silent.
The Beast prowled the room impatiently muttering curses and creating small balls of blue-glowing fire in his hands and smothering them hastily.
A few grizzled old men, the veterans of his small personal guard, kept themselves mostly to themselves. This had already become one war too many for most of them and those left were seriously questioning their loyalty to this tyrant. But then for most of them there was nowhere left to go. If the war was lost then the inevitable war crimes trials would only lead to their execution as had happened already to Dorat.
At that moment a runner approached and handed Casca a note..
Casca took the note cautiously and smiled and licked his lips as he read it. He turned to his companions and placed a finger on the map pointing. “Our last remaining allies have finally replied. We have one chance left before we must melt into the populace and try and live out our remaining lives. Here…”
Mericles and The Beast peered at the place on the map and exchanged knowing glances. “You mean to try and …” Mericles words were cut off suddenly as Casca placed his finger against his lips and drew a cut throat movement across his throat.
Casca wrote one word, a name, on the map and the three looked at each other each lost to his own thoughts and ambitions…
