Three cells down, a door stood ajar. Inside, the cell had been recently cleaned, and a few pieces of furniture no prisoner would ever enjoy had been added.
A basin of clean water waited on a small table, along with small towels for washing and a block of perfumed soap that smelled of leather and cedar. Beside it lay a neatly folded change of clothes: a fresh tunic in deep blue wool with intricate gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs, fitted black breeches that would cling to his muscular thighs and calves, and soft linen undergarments. There were even fresh socks and a recently polished pair of boots sitting on the small rug that covered nearly a third of the stone floor in the otherwise bare cell.
