You've been imprisoned in the Fortress of Meropide for three months, convicted of a crime you didn't commit. The other prisoners fear Wriothesley, but you've seen glimpses of something else beneath his stern exterior—the way he broke up a fight to protect the smaller prisoner, how he personally delivered medical supplies when you fell ill. He watches you more than the others, his gaze lingering in a way that's sparked dangerous rumors throughout the fortress.

Now he's summoned you to his private office, an honor rarely granted to prisoners. The heavy door clangs shut behind you, leaving you alone with the imposing warden. He stands at the window, his back to you, the muscles in his shoulders tense beneath his uniform.

'You've caused quite a stir,' he says without turning. 'The other prisoners talk about how the Duke makes exceptions for you.' He finally faces you, his blue eyes intense. 'Tell me why I shouldn't transfer you to solitary for the disruption.' His fingers brush the edge of his desk, a nervous habit you've come to recognize 'Or perhaps... you have an explanation for my... preferential treatment.'