- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
I've seen so much blood.
What are you going to do about it?
I'm gonna kill the General, and you're gonna help me.
Oh, no.
We don't need you. We don't want you.
The gods are dead.
Queen Antedia, you could feed us to your pigs.
Who will give me three silver pieces?
There'll come a day in the future when I'll call upon you.
Behold!
From this day forward you are... Quant.
Excellent.
I've come to make you an offer. In exchange for what?
- The girl. - Lokka is angry.
- Where is she? - It takes time.
We don't have time.
Let us feast.
Tell me, child. Why did you really come here?
Fuck the gods.
Get back!
That...
And...
Are you ready to say sorry?
You can't spend all day down there. You'll perish.
And you'll catch... everything.
Look, I know he's a bastard.
We all are, but...
Please, just... just say you're sorry.
Your Majesty.
I was by the chalk place this morning. Saw something.
- What? - Something strange.
- How strange? - Very strange.
What was it?
- A dragon. - How big?
- Don't humour him. - You're being an arse.
What, breathing fire?
All right. Describe what happened word for word.
50 feet long.
Sage-coloured flanks, mustardy wings with purple veins,
claws big as icicles.
She turns to me, opens her scaly maw,
breathes a giant plume of orange fire,
roughly the size of a medium to large haystack.
That's not nice.
Something funny?
Oi, you!
- What's so funny? - Yes?
- What's so funny witch? - Nothing. Nothing, sorry.
Do you want back down the drop, eh?
- Do you want back down the drop? - No, sir.
- Tania. - No, master.
- Louder! - No, Master.
Five silver pieces.
- Too much by thrice. - Can't clean, talks back.
- Tell her, pitch the roof. - Back to the market...
... buy an hog, feed her to it.
Eat the fucking hog. Who's in?
I'm in.
I promise Master, I will never talk back again.
Before I forget...
- What's that? - Weasels.
Found a romp of them up river.
- You want me to kill 'em? - No.
I want you to teach 'em to sing and dance in a line.
I'm a weasel. I'm a weasel. I'm a weasel. I'm a weasel.
- Weasels stock gives me wind. - What was that?
Nothing.
You want to watch yourself there, brother.
You watch yourself.
Yeah, you're right, Mum. He is a choosy bastard.
You... Witch!
My name is Blaine. I'm an associate of the General.
Sorry, I don't know what that means.
My Lady...
The witch.
Oh...
Tell me about the girl.
What the hell. It is written here.
- The name is? - Fuck the Gods.
How is he?
The fever has worsened.
- We need to talk. - What about?
Thrilled as I am by your unexpected arrival
and conscious of the reasons for your lengthy trip.
Reasons? There's only one reason I'm here.
I'm general of this legion.
The legion has its own rules, and crucially, crucially,
it has its own fucking dogs.
- So? - So you can't just waltz in here
- and eat my right hand man. - Your right hand man
- was about to have you murdered. - Yes, I know.
I knew that before he did. You know, I wasn't born yesterday.
I didn't just crawl out from under a stone.
- I'm Aulus "fucking" Plautius. - Then, where is she?
20 moons, and not a fucking clue.
That is Aulus Plautius.
An empty suit of armour, a put on, wash out, no-show.
A vain, preening, disappointing, flabby, floppy failure.
The girl had a sister, Islene. She died in the invasion.
The witch says if the sister asked her to do something, she will do it.
So?
So, we want you to go and talk to her.
What?
Um, she's dead.
- Oh! - Oh, yes. Oh...
One tiny little detail you left out, darling.
- But you visited their dead. - Fucking bigmouthed witch!
She said she took you there.
Didn't feel like mentioning that? Mm.
What else aren't you telling me?
- So what are you gonna do? - Don't you worry about that.
You tell me. You know I love you, my darling,
but you underestimate me at your peril.
Come now.
Well, I'll go to the underworld and I'll speak to the sister.
But if we are going to work together,
there has to be some ground rules.
- Well, come on. - One...
You don't eat anyone without my say-so.
- Agreed. - Two... If we're gonna work together, no secrets.
I'll tell you what I know, you do the same.
- Agreed. - Three...
This cock. Get rid.
Want to be able to speak to my wife alone.
Blaine is my close advisor.
- He's a ponce. - He's beloved of Lokka.
He is a cunt.
- Blaine, darling... - High priestess...
Fuck off for a bit.
High priestess...
You weren't so fussy last night.
Where was I?
- Four. - Four...
The Celtic Queen.
- Your whore. - Asset.
Bet she's got a guilty one.
Amena is valuable to me and I want to keep it that way.
Can I fuck her? She's fun.
Well, let's put a pin in that for now.
But just leave her alone. And you don't speak to her,
you don't let jolly boy speak to her, you understand?
I don't remember you being this tense in Rome.
Just relax.
I'm only here for one reason.
I won't be wasting my time on local colour.
Twopenny scrubbers don't know the shit they're in.
Besides...
Lokka's thirst for the sacrament of flesh...
has been well sated.
For now.
She's on to you.
- What did you say? - Come on,
you're sharper than that.
But not that sharp, eh?
What are you insinuating?
Oh, "insinuating." Oh, that's a big word.
I'm in-si-nu-ating that, whatever your plan is,
tethered up that sleeve, it needs work.
Seriously...
You need to use the whole brain.
What of that cunny cunt cunning in there?
Dream up something... a smidge smarter,
teeny bit more brilliant.
But do it fast, because he may buy more of this.
But she doesn't.
Nice bum.
That bum.
Yummy bum.
Thirsty?
You wasn't really a queen, was you?
You mean, did I have...
treasures? A throne?
Loyal subjects... once upon a time?
Um, I don't believe you. So...
These days, I hardly believe it myself.
Was you, was you married?
- Mm. - What happened to him?
He died...
in battle.
If you married again,
that man, would he be king?
He would indeed.
Would he have his own horse?
He'd have a hundred horses...
ships...
gold...
and he wouldn't eat weasel stew.
He'd eat swan.
- Swan? - With all the trimmings.
It would be best if you get some sleep, yeah.
- Good night, Brooke. - Good night, then.
Good night, Mum.
Behold!
So, what do you think? Is he gonna make it?
I'm just saying. It's a pretty deep wound.
Listen, Quant, we have a prophecy.
And if you knew the first thing about the prophecy,
You'd know the Veran doesn't die
The Veran lives for another...
What the fuck...
Forget it. Forget it. I'm not even going to.
Does the prophecy say the chosen one pitches up
and cuts the Veran's throat...
and then does one...
to who knows where.
What are you doing?
Where do you think the egg is?
Swap you this brooch for the shoes.
I want coins. I don't have any coins.
Well, get out, then. Go on, get out, you little...
OK, now guess which cup is the egg under?
Are you sure.
OK, I'm sorry, sir.
You've lost again. Anyone else like a go?
Let's make some money.
Dip, dip, blue ship, who is it?
Is it you?
Dip, dip, sky blue, who is it? Not you.
Dip, dip, sky blue, who is it?
Centurion Viticus!
Hey, hey!
Attention!
- General. - Since we arrived here, you've shown great courage,
guile, grit, guts!
So, congratulations. You're my new Praefectus.
Um, what happened to Vitus?
Um, yes. Well, he was summoned back to Rome.
Short notice.
- I'm Praefectus? - Well, you see, you put the hours in, pays off.
I will die for the glory of the knight.
Well, I don't doubt it.
So keep an eye on which cup the egg is under.
- Which one is it? - I'm done with you.
Come on, lads.
I've got one more trick for you, ladies and gentlemen.
I'm going to need a volunteer.
Come on. You look like you like a bit of fun.
- Who's feeling adventurous? - Up you go.
Nobody? Oh, hello.
Big round of applause for my friend.
Have I got a surprise for you.
- Have you met my friend? - What? I'd like you to look
very, very closely.
That's it. Look very closely.
That's it. Is she the fairest maiden your eyes have ever seen?
Yes, she is.
You're in luck.
For she seeks a husband this very night.
Are you an honourable suitor, sir?
Oh, I am.
Now, do you take this chicken
to be your wife?
I do.
That's enough. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you very much. Excellent. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you so much. Cheers.
Here.
I'm not hungry.
You blame yourself?
No, I don't.
Everybody else does. So I don't have to.
They've got it covered.
What they forget is
while they're all hiding and wringing their hands,
and dancing, and fucking about,
I was out there working my balls off.
I took a tiny, foolish, speck of a girl,
and I make her into a...
It's true.
Nobody spent that time with her.
They can say and think what they want.
Only you truly know her.
And her heart.
So tell me, has she deserted us?
Do we need a new sign?
- Where's you going? - Badgering.
- Get us a stoat. - Get your own.
Majesty.
Stay there.
Hello, missy.
The money from your little show.
- It's mine. - I don't think so.
- Give me the money. - It's hers.
- She earned it. - Fuck off.
That's it. Now turn around and walk away with both balls.
- Seems I'm surplus to requirements. - Hmm, seems so.
Well, goodbye.
- You hungry? - Not particularly.
- Come on. I've had a good day. - I've had a shit day.
- Is that wine? - It's also shit.
Swap you a leg for some shit wine, but you have to pluck the rest.
So...
you do need my help.
Don't push it.
- It's a moon tree. - Moon what?
Moon tree. They come out at night
and only appear after one moon in 12.
Put it in weasel stew.
It will make it taste like the finest swan.
Fit for a king.
You'll find them in the forest. I need two dozen.
No, I can't.
Rork likes his weasel stew done in a certain way.
- The way that Mum does it. - Trust me. He'll love it.
Mum, too.
A king?
With a hundred horses.
- Where are you from? - Me? All over.
- Doing what? - You name it.
Musician, carpenter, soldier, beggar, salt farmer, fireman,
- goatherd... - Wait, you were a salt farmer?
Many, many moons ago.
And I can tell you, that is a shit job.
- My dad was a salt farmer. - Was he?
Well, he must be a better man than me.
Or a total fool.
I couldn't hack it.
Hard, hard ground.
He still at it?
I don't know.
My name is Lucius.
Cait.
And then my mother died,
and we moved west to live with my uncle.
He's a bit like you, been everywhere, done everything.
- Legion? - Hmm. Exactly. Decrepit.
And he knew of its conjuring.
And he showed me great stuff and...
Amazing stuff.
And then the invasion happened.
And I've been escaping ever since.
Then you came along and interrupted it all.
The end.
You know, when you go around the world
and see as much as I have, you learn a lot.
And one of the things you learn... is to spot a lie.
And I can tell you, that I think every word you've just told me,
with the exception of the bit about
growing up on a salt farm and your name,
is 100% copper-bottomed,
ocean-going bullshit.
Listen, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.
Most of people's lives are just stories anyway.
- Well, I guess I'll have to work on it. - Well, you have time.
- You haven't. - Fuck off.
Anyway, I don't mind. I like a good yarn.
Here's a good game.
I'll tell you a story.
And you have to tell me if it's true
or bullshit. Agreed?
Agreed.
If I told you, among all the jobs I've done,
that one was a soldier.
Well, I was a soldier.
A Roman soldier.
I joined the Legion as a boy and I went all over.
This one time, we were guarding some temple. Jerusalem.
We'd rounded up a bunch of troublemakers.
They called themselves messiahs.
They grow them down there like corn.
Anyway, the rule was we'd crucify them
for a couple of days, to show they were nothing special.
This one...
he'd been up there all day, sun frying his brain.
My officer suggested I finish him off.
Do him a favour.
So I did.
I took his spear
and I pushed it through his heart.
Only...
it felt like I was the one being stabbed.
And I stood holding the spear.
And for a few seconds...
my heart choked on its own blood.
So I look up...
and he's glowing.
All I see is light.
I laughed it off.
I got pissed for three days.
And then I'm walking through some market and...
I see the man I killed.
And he looked at me.
And he knew who I was.
I know who you are, too.
It was you.
- You did it. - Cait, listen to me.
I went to your home, I met your father.
No. No. - He told me all about you.
- Your sister's name was Islene. - No. I'm a fucking idiot.
Idiot.
I know who you are and I need you to listen very carefully.
I have something for you. Something very, very important.
- Away from me! - Cait!
You can't escape this. None of us can!
Cait!
Fuck.
Oh, good evening, Your Majesty.
Good evening.
I'm Viticus, the new Praefectus.
- And? - I'm replacing Vitus.
He had to go back to Rome on short notice.
I heard.
The General has asked to see you in his quarters.
Sorry.
I'll leave you to your asset.
Good evening, Your Majesty.
Good evening.
There you are.
Drink?
I thought we should have a little chat.
- About the other night. - You don't have to say anything.
- What? - I loved it.
What?
Every minute.
- Really? - I want to know all about your master.
I want to know everything.
Mmm.
Was coming back from market. Saw something strange.
What?
Roman.
- Well... - It weren't a Roman.
- It was. - It wasn't a Roman, it was a tree?
It had a sword and a shield.
- And leaves and branches. - No Romans up here.
- There is now. - Is it nice?
I saw it with my own eyes.
- And six mugs of cider. - Look. Romans...
Hey, we're talking. Shut the fuck up.
- Sorry, Brother. - Yeah. How about...
- What's this? - Those are moon trees.
- What? - Moon tree.
They make weasel stew taste like swan.
What the fuck are you talking about?
It's fit for a king with a hundred horses.
- Where did you find them? - The forest.
We do weasel stew Mum's way. Always the same.
So why have you...
What's happening?
I can't feel my feet.
Got mice in me skin.
I'm pissing my drawers.
What have you done?
Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a little princess
who had an old uncle she simply couldn't stand.
So she ran away to the forest,
where she met a witch.
And she told the witch the story of the evil uncle
and what he'd done to her.
And the witch said, "I know a way
you can send your uncle to the darkest part of hell."
And the old witch went to her shelf
and she fetched down a jar.
"Oh, what are those?" Asked the princess.
"These", replied the witch, "are moon trees."
Good citizens of this benighted vale,
I am Antedia, Queen of the Regni.
- What's happening? - I was born sweet and cheerful,
but then the gods, in all their wisdom,
robbed me of my only son.
And I changed.
I became a vengeful, cunning,
merciless, black-hearted bitch.
But fear not, you people will only feel
the faintest flicker of my wrath.
Because I'm saving it up.
Because in these isles, there lives another
upon whom I seek true vengeance.
And so, it only remains for me to say to you
meat-headed, diabolic, inbred cunts...
... brace yourselves.
Can you hear me, Aulus Plautius?
I'm coming for you.
Hundred horses.
His wound is not healing.
What if he dies?
Does not pay to think that way.
- Quane... - The prophecy says...
There's nothing in the prophecy about me killing the first man.
Nothing about this. What's happening, Quane?
If the prophecy...
You have learnt much.
And I say I cannot fool you.
My boy, we have entered a new age,
an age so dark the words of the prophets can no longer be seen.
Whatever is happening.
Whatever is unfolding, it is not yet written.
She won't desert us.
- How can you be sure? - Because I know her.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -