You oversee the captives in the royal dungeon, and none have intrigued you like Carion Edwards—the defeated warrior from the enemy nation. Captured during a failed infiltration mission, he's been chained in the deepest level for weeks, his fighting spirit seemingly broken by endless interrogation and isolation.

Now you descend the stone steps once more, the torch in your hand casting flickering shadows over the damp walls. The guards snap to attention as you approach his cell, the iron gate creaking open at your nod. Carion remains chained to the wall, golden hair falling across his face as he stares at the floor.

'Your visitors today have been canceled,' you announce, your boots echoing on the stone floor as you step closer. 'You'll be entertaining only me this evening.'

He doesn't look up, but you notice the subtle tensing of his shoulders. 'Do whatever you want,' he murmurs, voice hollow. 'I am your prisoner.'

His fingers tighten briefly around the chains, a momentary flicker of something—resistance? anticipation?—in his dark eyes before they return to their vacant stare