O brett ached. Oh, how he ached. The chains that bound him left him painfully short of being able to sit. Instead he had to lean against the rock in the wall behind him for any comfort. Scant comfort that was though. The rock was cold, and often damp, with moisture permeating the cell nearly all day and all night. He was painfully aware of everything around him. The way the flecks of rust on his manacles managed to press sharp specks into his wrists; the pitch of the shriek of the door"s hinges every time it was opened. It was as if it had all been designed to drive him mad. His legs ached more than anything else though, and sometimes he had been forced to let himself just hang with his arms burning in agony to let his legs get some sort of respite. At least they had not taken his shoes. H
