Answers are in order.

Remaining chained to the stone, your gaze narrows in return as you stare down the girl. Your voice is low and threatening as you ask simply, "What is this?"

She breaks eye contact by lowering her head as she responds, "My Lord, we are the Violet Rose. Your coming was foretold, and we have waited," she makes a small gesture toward your shackles, and the nearest men produce keys from their robes, swiftly releasing you from bondage.

Arms heavy with muscle slip free from the thick metal and you roll your shoulders back instinctively, groaning with the stretch. This body feels powerful, indeed.

As you look down at her once more, the little woman continues without raising her head, "We are all yours, my Lord. Speak and the Rose obeys."