At the heart of Undertopia, Night Phase of Turn 11...
Samantha sat by the throne of the newly captured city, a little blood still in her hair. The fight was messy, but they'd gotten through it well enough. Her shining new armor glowed by the burning log within the garrison, emitting a hearthy light. She could feel the heft in her limbs as she moved them, but there was a certain pride in having won your first battle. "Well, this has been an eventful turn. The winds of war have swung both ways." Samantha stated quietly to herself, while the small smile melted away.
Not all was good, of course. War was bloody, cold, and merciless. Like the tundra. She took a small sigh and stood upright, looking at her companions as they were settling down for bed. They semed perfectly fine to get a good night's rest after a long battle. She was restless, pacing back and forth, watching the head above the hearth stare down at her. It stood on a pike, sticking up like a stake, the dead face of a former queen looking down on her with a vacant expression. She shook her head, sitting back down on a still held together chair, staring up at the head.
Sam knew the lies that were told. Sam knew the treachery that was wove. Sam knew the war bells they'd wrought. But Sam didn't know what it was that she sought. She glanced up at the corpse, blinking a couple times, and shaking her head.
"Hark, Queen Victoria, who now lays dead."
With a motion of three fingers pointed together and ringing like a bell, the woman saluted the hearth, and then quietly knelt, laid, and went off to bed.