Roland wearily rubbed his head as he stepped off the elevator into the arcade. Those fiend depths had given him quite a rustling, but his squad medic had patched his forehead up after a devilite had thrown a chair at him. The knight decided to go into the Bazaar to sell some of the goods he had earned from the fiend cities.

He stepped through the huge archway into what he believed to be the Bazaar and was met by loud voices shouting and arguing and talking. Roland asked a rushed passerby why it was so noisy in the Bazaar.

"This isn't the Bazaar. This is Town Square!" the knight proclaimed, then hurried past Roland.

'Alright, alright, hurting my head back there must've just given me infrared vision for a bit. I think I'll just go to sleep and see if that helps.' he thought.

And so he did. Roland went to take a nap in his sleeping pod. When he woke up, he had a horrid cough. His nose was stuffed up as well. Roland sneezed, and it almost sounded like a neigh. He put on his Spiral Plate Armor and grabbed his Troika from its stand. Roland swung open a door and stepped out into the warm embrace of Cradle's sun. He wiped sweat from his brow and ran as fast as he could over to the training barracks, where Feron was teaching soldiers new techniques.

"...and you swing, block, then stab. If you do this right-" Feron saw Roland coming late. "Ah, Roland, you've finally arrived. Care to join us?"

Roland passed by Feron when going to his designated spot and Feron whispered to him, "You're late," with a stern look. Roland said "Sorry," and settled in front of a dark grey bag hung up with chains.

"Now, practice what I just told you. Swing, block, stab. Swing, block, stab," he told the trainees.

Roland swung and blocked, but he couldn't stab. His sword was too heavy. So instead, he held the Troika with two hands and smashed down with full force on the poor training bag. It split right in two. Feron unhappily rushed over to him.

"You're doing it wrong. Give me that," Feron growled as he grabbed the sword. "Watch and learn."

Feron swung, blocked, then tried to stab, but the sword was too heavy and he fell to the ground.

"What kind of Troika is this?" he exclaimed. "Certainly it is not of the Spiral Order's making!"

Roland shrugged, "I did make a few tweaks to it."

"You... You listen to me. You're going to do a full run straight from Haven to Moorcroft Manor. You do not tinker with the Spiral Order weaponry," Feron snapped.

"But-"

"Now." Feron glared.

Roland took the traditional Troika Feron had pulled from a weapon rack nearby and walked, defeated, into the arcade. He sighed as he went onto the elevator and pressed the down button. The depth the elevator stopped on was a fiend city. 'Oh great,' Roland thought.

Roland sneezed with a loud snort. It sounded like a neigh just like the last time.

He heard small voices chanting, "Ta run mor emen yo uja wery fe!"

That was strange. He had never heard voices like that in a fiend depth, or any depth for that matter. He rounded a corner and saw a group of devilites. They were the ones chanting. Roland had never heard devilites speak before. He made short work of them, then held his hand as it had began to hurt. He was afraid to find his fingers had turned to stone. Those devilites had done something to him! Roland ran through the depth, trying to get to the elevator so someone in Haven could help him.

He heard the chanting again and found several devilites speeding closer to him. After he killed that group, Roland saw that both his legs up to his knees had turned to stone. He had to move fast. Roland tried to run, but his new legs of rock made that hard. A huge mob a devilites came by Roland, and he attempted to fend them off. He survived the encounter, but now his whole lower body and arms were stone.

Roland hurried as fast as he could. His vision was horribly infrared now; all he saw were blobs of color. Then he saw a bit of yellow in the black and purple sea. The elevator! He rushed towards it, his body hardening with every step. When he was less than a couple of yards away from his saving elevator, his torso turned completely to hard rock and a large devilite jumped in front of him. The pit boss strolled closer to Roland.

Roland was frozen with fear. Then he realized he was literally stuck in place. The stone body wouldn't do anything; Roland could only move his head from side to side. He saw regular devilites advancing closer with the pit boss. Roland turned towards the pit boss again and saw now that it was holding a horse head-shaped helmet in its scrawny fingers.

Roland sneezed with a loud horse-like snort. He finally knew what was happening. The devilites were going to turn him into a trojan!

"Please! Please! Please...please...don't hurt me...please..." Roland cried in vain.

He looked around and noticed he was in a ritual circle. Devilites stood around the edge of this circle and he was in the center. The pit boss forced the horse helm onto Roland's head and stepped back.

All of the devilites started shouting, "Bicoum te weriar ef stuen und riw piwur!"

Roland screeched, and his eyes rolled back into his head. When they rolled back into place, they were a dark black color. He snorted, and picked himself up. Then a pit boss started calling out to the trojan in the spirilian language.

"You are now a Trojan of the Second Class of Furdenseuch!" it yelled. "You have become a warrior of stone and raw power! Nothing can stand in your way as you fight for the Dark Army! The swarm is within you, and it makes you strong!"

The devilites screamed, "Nur tah ro!"

The pit boss handed Roland the Trojan a huge shield. "This is emblazoned with the insignia of Furdenseuch! Use it well!"

Roland grabbed his now enlarged Troika and his new shield. He pointed the sword up to the sky and roared. Then he snorted and turned towards the pit boss. It snapped its fingers, and two devilites applied pressure to a pink crystal they had lodged in Roland's back. Roland slammed his Troika into the ground and leaned his head on its hilt. His eyes turned grey and so did the rest of his body, including his weapons. Roland couldn't move. He was to activate if any knights came by him.

For Roland was now a Trojan of the Dark Army.

And he was ready to kill.