Nathan waited in silence while Norihiro sat chained against the stone wall.
The room remained dim except for the candle burning on the low table between them. Its flame shifted whenever cold air slipped through the cracks around the heavy iron door, making the shadows on the walls move like dark figures watching from a distance.
Norihiro's wrists were bound in metal shackles.
The chains attached to the wall behind him were thick enough that even a powerful warrior would struggle to break them. His ankles were restrained as well. He had no sword, no armor, no scepter, no guards, and no followers left to command.
Yet he still sat with his back straight.
Pride was the last thing Norihiro possessed.
And he clung to it as though it were enough to rebuild everything he had lost.
"Regardless of what you are planning," Norihiro said, "I will not write anything for the capital."
His eyes remained fixed on Nathan.
