Execution by being gored to death by a bull... It was quite the way to be sacrificed and quite the way to be executed. Such sacrifices may have been banned on Aether, but Falco and his companions were not on Aether anymore. Of all the gods in all the world, the Earth Bull alone was appeased via throwing a man into a bull-pit to be gored. When Menes had ascended to the throne of Aether, the sacrifices were changed and instead the Earth Bull was appeased with airs and pujas of vintage.
Sighing, Falco looked out from his cell into the arena. There the Sacred Bull ran around while Taurus watched from the box he would be occupying. It was as if he had been sent back in time, to a less civilized time on Aether... His home, his kingdom that was no more... His mother, his late father's tiger Aedan, everyone was gone save for the handful that were now here in Hyperion, the merchants and Elephas' people... Speaking of which, where was Elephas?
Scratching the back of his head in confusion, Falco tried to remember the last time he had seen that shepherd who had become an ally. He could not quite remember. He had not been among Taurus and his priests he had not been among any of them when brought to the castle... Was he back on the ship? Where was he?
Looking back out into the arena, Falco's eyes widened in shock. There Elephas was! He was by Taurus' side! Again, the Last Divine Deucalion of Aether wondered where he had been?
Minos and Sarpedon were there as well, with the latter even proceeding to argue with Taurus. Falco had a good idea of what the argument might have been about, Taurus may have been quick to adapt, but it seemed entirely possible that Sarpedon was not so quick to let go of his belief of native Aetherean superiority... What good were such ideals when there wasn't even an Aether anymore?
Hearing the door to his cell open, Falco looked over, wondering who it could have possibly been. Was it Leo or Acinonyx come to mock him over his coming execution? It most certainly wasn't Taurus he was still out there in the box arguing with Sarpedon.
Sitting on the bed, Falco could only wonder what to do. How was he going to get out of this? If he did get out of this and rescue Rowena and the others and avenge his father and Frumentius, where would they even go? The Ulgen Khanate perhaps? Would he and Rowena even qualify as royalty in exile? He had no idea.
Looking down at his leather doublet with its marks of cutting and cases of rust, Falco wondered how long it would hold up against the horns of the Sacred Bull. Would it even offer any protection? And where was his sword? His great-grandfather's sword, rusty, broken and missing a pommel. Where was it? It had been confiscated, but where was it now? Had the Hyperionite guards viewed it only as junk? How was he to know?
As unexpected as a lightning strike without any storm clouds in the sky, the jailer entered the cell. He was a portly fellow, brutish as well with a bald head and hanging at his belt was the keys to the various cells. Staring at the jailer, Falco noticed the man's noise and neck were practically non-existent. He had nostrils true and he could turn his head, but his nose was as flat as possible and his neck was so short, he might as well have not even had one. In the place of his left hand was a hook, hardly anything original.
Standing before the bed, the jailer looked down at Falco, his bloodshot eyes not even looking like they belonged to anything human. "So, you are the Last Divine Deucalion of Aether?"
"I am, sir. What of it?" asked Falco.
Holding out his hook, the jailer snarled: "I lost my hand when me and my mates went raiding! Your father did this to me and I want retribution!"