"We should be safe here."

It was only when the marine had stopped that Quintia allowed herself to take in their surroundings.

It was not much different from the tunnels they were in before, with the ancient ruins scattered around them -

Massive stone statues of ancient lizards loomed in the darkness like some dark guardians of the afterlife, and creeping plants had long claimed large sections of it years before. And much like the tunnels, it was nearly impossible to see within the darkness that seemed to have encompassed the entirety of the cave.

"How can you be certain of this, lieutenant?"

Sentus Optimus was silent as he surveyed their surroundings. One certainly did not need words to say that this was just his speculation, something that he had only presumed due to the fact that they could both no longer hear any signs of their pursuers on their tracks.

But it will not be long, will it? The Templars practically own this island, their forces are everywhere -

Quintia cut the thought short right there and then.

She could not afford to let the fear take over her so easily: it would only spell their doom, she was certain of it, if either one of them broke down now of all times, for they both had no one else to depend on, no one else to turn to but each other.

She allowed herself to partially lean against one of the many statues (for she did not expect the lieutenant to answer), just barely able to bite back the wince that shook her frame that caused her to flinch as if she had touched something hot with her bare skin. Even with the armor over her torso, it certainly did not lessen the burn from the lash wounds still littering her back.

"Captain, you are bleeding."

Sentus had finally spoken up for the first time since he had brought the both of them into the cave, a trace of what she could tell was concern going through his usually collected words.

Quintia just barely craned her head downward, her own frame jolting when she noticed the almost alarming amount of blood tricking through the gap between her flesh and armor.

DANGER.

The same danger signal from before, when her two tormentors were in her cell (for the fourth time, the fifth time?), shot through her processor, the Royal Guard officer bringing one slender hand up in what even she could recognize as a futile effort to stifle the blood flow.

One large hand now reached out, almost gently tugging her hand away from the area.

Quintia's gaze turned to the marine captain; Sentus did not meet her gaze, instead choosing to undo the straps of her armor just enough to push it to the side, revealing the wound ripped into her lower back, drops of crimson blood still clinging to the edge of the torn flesh, and trickling out still.

"Devereaux."

She was almost certain this was the word the marine had growled out under his breath.

Yes, this would explain all of it, for no other being in the spiral would fight in this fashion, aside from that pathetic excuse of a man.

Quintia had not met the swashbuckler before, of course, but what stories she had heard whispered among the Assassins loyal to the Supreme Commander and what she had read from the reports kept in the archives of the Armada was enough. And she would say it was even more so, now she had experienced it.

She was brought back into reality once more, when the sound of fabric ripping could be heard. The Supreme Commander's lieutenant had torn off a chunk of the tunic he had worn under his armor, pressing it down on the wound (Quintia being unable to help but flinch away for a single second at the brief moment of pain) and tightening the straps of her armor once more to staunch it.

"Lieutenant."

Both of the marine's eyes locked into hers, as he turned fully to face her, rising to his full height.

"What are your next plans of action?"

Quintia was the Captain of the Royal Guard, yes, but her experience was nothing when compared to the lieutenant of the Supreme Commander: and some part of her hoped (and a much greater part of the clockwork could not believe it, how they were relying on this concept that had no solid base whatsoever) Sentus knew what to do.

She herself could hardly form a plan within her mind without feeling more of the nervous thoughts creeping into her processor.

Nervousness, fear, apprehension.

Quintia counted each of them as they appeared, each of them threatening to take over her; just barely fended off at the very last moment. While they had different names, they had little difference between them, simply being the levels of one emotion.

Fear, even now she could vividly recall how it crept through her like the coils of some infernal snake. It wrapped around her, choked her like the snake it was when she was within the hands of her tormentors: what would they use to tear her delicate skin open next? Without the protection of her armor or weapons, she was nothing but a fragile humanoid just as breakable as any living being.

While she may have escaped, it remained there, refusing to budge as long as the question she had posed went without an answer to provide the certainty that her powers of observation could no longer give her: it had been ripped from her since they stepped into this temporary haven away from their pursuers.

Sentus Optimus turned his gaze back to the mouth of the cave, the last remaining rays of light from the setting sun casting elongated shadows onto the floor of the cave: the hushed tone of his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Templars are crawling all over this island, and I doubt if they have left our ship, or spared our squadron of soldiers. Our only chances would be to contact Secundus, and hope he would be able to contact the Supreme Commander. However..."

This plan would be nothing short of suicide, to deliver ourselves back into the hands of our captors once more: Secundus has already risked everything to get us out of there, this would compromise all of us.

"There is also a chance that we can wait it out, in here." Sentus glanced around them. "Until the point when the Supreme Commander sends a retrieval team here: after all, we have been away for longer than anticipated."

Such was true, yes, Quintia realized. It had been impossible to tell whether it was day or night in the ancient tunnels, but it was possible to know that a long time had passed, at least a week to say the very least -

"Find them! Find both of those clockworks or else the Grand Master will have your heads!"

Instantly, her head snapped toward the direction of the human voices. Judging by the volume of it, they were on their way up the mountain as well, and likely not more than a few miles at max away from their hiding places.

"Silence you fool, they can hear you, and you know how sneaky those metal bastards can be."

The voices seemed to fade away after what was likely only a few minutes - when it felt more like eons for the Captain as she shrunk into the darkest of the shadows within the cave next to the marine - moving further away until they were no more.

If there really were fates, those immortals beyond the perception and plane of mortal beings, they must be having quite some time doing all of this.

Indeed, it almost seemed as though they wished to remind her of the possibilities of being discovered by those Templars soldiers and dragged back into the bowels of the tunnels, back into the hands of her Commander's greatest enemies.

Only one exchange of glances was needed with Sentus for Quintia to know the thoughts that were currently lingering upon both of their minds.

If seeking out the aide of the Armada spy was no more of an option, it leaves them with no other choice but to remain here within the shadows of this cavern. But for how long would they last?

She did not want to even attempt calculating the possibilities.

Attempting to keep most of her weight from leaning onto the wall of the cave, Quintia found herself leaning against Sentus' torso, one of the lieutenant's arms wound around her in what could almost be called a protective manner.

Since Quintia was one of the clockwork race, she never tired, never needed sleep, and so she gazed upon the starry skies as night completely encompassed the island.

Her memories traced back into the past, to precisely three months ago. She would have almost burst out laughing, bitterly, for it was just quite ironic, to say the very least. At that point, she had been so glorious, to say the very least, serving as the secondary leader to squadrons of Royal Guard warriors, those specialized clockworks built by her own creator and Commander Ulysses as the bodyguards of the Supreme Commander.

Few could walk through Cadiz without recognizing the Royal Guards, Quintia recalled, for it was only thanks to the Praetorians, the many assassination attempts by the remaining fractions of the Resistance from actually succeeding. They were always at the frontline, when it came to protecting their commander, just as she was.

Something swelled up within her chest at those memories.

Pride.

The sensation of pleasure, of the joys one would feel whenever they recalled their proudest achievements.

I was there to prevent about all of the attempts. And they remembered me.

Quintia recalled the way that in many of the later attempts by the Resistance, their assassins seemed to make a conscious effort to keep out of her way, how several of them seemed to instantly know who she was when she rushed to engage them; fleeing almost instantly.

How ironic, as the humans would have said, the once glorious captain of the Royal Guards would be reduced down to this, hiding in a cave from a few Templar enemies she would have otherwise killed within a few minutes.

Irony at its finest, isn't that what they would say?

More Quintia and Sentus stuff ;D would they survive this ordeal? Check back later to see, of course, you think I'm going to spoil any of this for you all? Silly XD. Tell me I am not the only one that feels a little bad for putting Quintia through this, you poor girl, forced to mature so fast... Though Ulysses would have been quite proud.

Reviews are much appreciated! Until next time!

-Hades