Not for the Galleys
The racking of the bar wench was proving tedious. The inquisition of the slave for poisoning the brave soldier boys had run past the watchman's first bell and the rack master and his team wished to retire to the tavern themselves. But this was a serious matter; the Faction may have used the wench to strike terror into the garrison who regularly caroused the rickety wine dens huddled around the west gate. The boys had left their barracks late that previous evening and settled on Sulla's den where there was wine, ale and flesh to taste and enjoy. The bar slave had served the four and then she and the kitchen slut had earned some coin pleasuring the soldiers. It was in the morning the alarm was raised with three dead in their billets, having vomited blood and bile overnight. The fourth had time to tell his officer of where they had been before dying himself. The Inquisitor General had the den raided and all the slaves dragged into his chambers for questioning. It ...