Judging from what I've figured out in the past few moments, I've learned that the guards take the slaves for a routine shit dump, treating them as if they were no more than dogs. On top of that, they subject them to all kinds of deranged, twisted acts, things too horrifying to imagine.
Patiently, I wait for one of the guards to walk forward toward us, and as if the universe itself is on my side, one of them begins making his way in our direction.
"Get ready," I signal to Myra, who responds with a nod of her head. I bring out the sword I took from the charioteer, gripping the handle tightly as I prepare. The hooded guard moves closer, and to my utter disgust, he pulls out his pee-pee and starts relieving himself—directly on my head.
"..."
