Her eyes followed the figure like a hawk; her body stayed rigid like stone. She was tired, beaten, bleeding, and mad. The General went about his business, striding lazily like a peacock, messing with the prisoner's sense of sanity and reason.
"What is your name?" His voice was unlike anything she had heard before, thick with a unique accent. He raised his eyes at the damsel in his space when no answer came. The General tapped the tip of his covered saber against the floor three times, then continued moving.
And Stephanie continued staring - alarmed.
"Where do you come from... what do you do for a living?"
"...," Stephanie sized him from head to toe in her mind.
"So, you won't answer?... Fine, I guess I'll have to make you talk." He sent one arm behind him like a gentleman, taking his
