It was Gilles's seventh day in the dungeon.
Numb with cold, Gilles leaned against the stone wall.
His greasy hair clung together, stubble covered his cheeks, and excrement lay scattered around him...
Everything in the cell was designed to keep him alive and suffering.
No one would have connected him to the "Mad Dog Duke" who had ruled the Duchy a month ago. No one came to see him, either.
Here, the forgotten man lost the last of his dignity.
Clang—
That morning... or perhaps late that night, the cell deep in the dungeon was thrown open.
Flickering firelight struck Gilles's eyes. He squinted. "Does your sorcerer master mean to risk condemnation by secretly executing me, or is he releasing a Noble of exalted blood?"
"Has he gone mad?"
The two guards exchanged a look. Neither spoke as they hauled Gilles to his feet.
"You damned commoners! You should show me respect!" Stripped of his position and strength, Gilles's fury sounded feeble.
"You killed my uncle and his daughter," one guard said, unable to hold back.
Dozens of pounds thinner and struggling to think straight, Gilles stared at him. "Why were your uncle and his daughter in the Duchy?"
"Because you drove us out of the North! Lord Annan took us in, do you understand? You scum!"
Then he has every right to be angry. Gilles fell into thought. Voices seemed to stir in his mind—voices that did not belong to this dark, damp, hopeless dungeon.
"The Witches' Home took me in. I can live normally there, without worrying about the Duchy's guards..."
“You don't have to hide anymore,” Gilles blurted out, wearing the Crown.
The Prisoner in the cell before him froze. "Mind your own business!" Then he realized this man had been dragged from the deepest part of