Archer watched Anatoly sigh before the older man nodded. ''Okay, but first, he will be taken to be questioned. Thanks to the collar, he will give us Draconia's weaknesses, so we can end this war.''
'Oh no, I won't,' he thought with a growl that resounded through the room.
This caught their attention, causing the man's face to twist into a scowl. ''You seem to forget that you're a slave. Now stand up so I can give you to my wife. She will keep you in line while I'm gone.''
Moments later, two big men grabbed him as the emperor continued. ''Take him to the torture chamber. Get the weakness to that annoying Death Mist so we can take the island.''
Archer's limbs grew heavy as the collar sapped his strength, its cold metal biting his neck. The two burly guards gripped his arms, their fingers like iron clamps, dragging him through the dimly lit corridors of the palace.
