Galla's confusion was brought to even higher levels when the large silver man bent towards her and made the chains merely a horrible memory. She gasped when she found her hands free, the skin on them terribly chafed and torn. She listened to him speak, but she kept shaking her head violently, not wanting to accept his words. But they did reach her, and it became clear to her that he was one of the wisest beings to ever speak to her. Yet, what he was saying, what he was implying...no, she would never accept it.<br/><br/>He helped her up, pulling her to her feet by her shoulders, and she felt small, weak, vulnerable and helpless in his grip. His hands were large and they made her shrink before him. She used the newly gained freedom of her hands to re-arrange her coverings, making sure her breast was concealed safely once more. With a shiver that crossed her entire body, and with fresh tears in her eyes, tears that had not come on her long boat travel, tears that she had learned to supress while at war, tears that she did not want them to see, she said: "You might be right. You would be completely right if you were speaking to some other person. And I would bow down to your wisdom right now, if it weren't for the hatred i bear you, especially you, Silver Man. No, I refuse to do what you bid, what any of you bid! You all claim I am a slave, your slave, and yes, I am your prisoner. But I will never accept this status you impose upon me. The battles I've lost have indeed led me here, but as long as I breathe, I shall fight you. You say a slave should wait and think of better times. I shall wait. And I shall think of a time when I shall partake in your destruction. In the destructions of Rome and its allies. Perhaps you should think about that, because if what I suspect about you is true, Silver Man, you should not want a part of this. And yet you do, therefore, I can only agree with my theory. The great whore that is Rome pollutes even the heart of those pure. Inform me when your missions fail so that I may dance on the ashes of your desires."<br/><br/>Galla had more, oh, much more poison in her heart, and she would spill it all on them. But a sudden weariness caught up with her and as she pulled herself free of Argentum's hands, she felt the room spin with her. Perhaps it was the lack of nourishment, the sudden realization (she was not obtuze, she knew when there was no way out even if her spirit fought against it) that she was truly enslaved, or the apparition of such...creatures. She gasped for air and had to use all her strength to stand on her own legs. She kept glaring at the gathered people, a tear escaping her eye and rolling down her cheek. She heard Sthenae speak of a stone decoration and she wondered what she meant, but as she gazed upon her, more calmly now, she realized she indeed knew what she was and she recognized the danger she represented for her. The snakes, the entire demeanor...she was a sort of mythical creature she had believed in as a child. One that inspired great respect and fear, one that haunted the minds of men and the labyrinths in which lovers would foolishly wander. A creature spawned of unearthly parents. A Gorgon. She would have been killed, perhaps she should have been killed. The silver man had saved her life...Galla could not take much more knowledge. She felt the ground spinning violently now and in a matter of seconds she collapsed, fainting and hearing no more.