Transcript:

Page 11 panel 1
(Sunset. Lysander, covered in blood and ash, walks into his tent. He is livid)

Panel 2
(throws his helm at a table where a map and pieces representing battle formations are set up, scattering them everywhere)

Panel 3
(sits down, fist clenched to knees, and cries)

Panel 4
Lysander: (thinking) I can’t do this again. All those people… women and children and old men… If Arrrg’t* Brr’gt’e could see what I’ve become…

Lysander: (thinking) But this is who I am. A Roman. Not a dwarf. A giant, bloodthirsty monster. A thug for a weak and wretched man. The Son of a Tyrant! Destined to be no more than Ben’s… FUCKING warlord!

Panel 5
Lysander turns toward opening of tent)
Legate’s voice: (from without) Your Highness!

Panel 6
Lysander: (wipes his eyes) Come.

Panel 7
(legate puts arms around him)
Legate: You did well, my boy! Better than I ever imagined! A good haul, a GOOD haul!

Panel 8
Legate: Come, take your pick.

Lysander: My “pick”?