The dungeon was built deep in the lower levels of the manor, far from any light or warmth. The air was damp and stale, filled with the smell of rust, and old blood.
The wall sconces cast light along the path as Ragnar descended the narrow stairway, stretching his shadow long and jagged ahead of him. Each step echoed softly, a measured rhythm.
The guards stationed by the iron door bowed when they saw him approaching, their eyes wary. They had been ordered not to speak or interact with the detained man.
"Open it," Ragnar said quietly.
The guards sprang into action, rushing to obey. The hinges groaned in protest as the door swung open, revealing the cell beyond.
The dignitary was slumped against the wall, wrists bound by chains that clinked faintly when he stirred. His once-fine robes were now streaked with blood and dried sweat.
