Our freedom, Bors.
I don't like it. Rome. He's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?
I don't kill for pleasure. Unlike some
N-no-no.No. As of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory.
So youíll just... leave the land to the Woads. I risked my life for nothing.
Youíre not completely Roman yet, right?
Our duty to Rome, if it was ever a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done.
Well if youíre so eager to die, you can die right here!
Iíve got something to live for!
Why would they not attack?
So are we.
Weíll finally get a look at the bastards.
Mmm... I can almost taste it.
What a bloody mess.
Blue demons who eat Christians alive - youíre not a Christian, are you!?
Why don't ye just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?
Well, you speak for yerself- itís cold back there. And everyone I know is dead and buried. Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children.
You listen, when the Romans leave here, weíll have the run of all this place. Iíll be... governor of my own village, and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal arse-kisser, wonít you, Dag?
A beautiful Sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in the first place?
What about you, Lancelot? What are you plans for home?
... you look nothing like him. Youíre all Bors.
Here. Be a mother to your son.
SHUT UP! Vanora will sing.
Let the Romans take care of their own.