Fitz waited while the man left, his footsteps echoing away into nothingness. He grabbed the torch from the wall, making his way down the hallway. There was a total of six rooms here, each with its own bed, desk and chair. They must, he reasoned, have been built to house more important prisoners, though he struggled to think of any time in the past when that had been necessary. The doors were wooden, each with a barred window displaying those within. As the only prisoner currently abiding within, the woman had the place to herself.
He knocked on the door and waited patiently. When there was no reply, he repeated his actions.
“I am your prisoner,” the woman responded. “Why do you insist on playing this ridiculous charade? If you want to enter, just enter.”
“I didn’t want to intrude,” said
