Chained to the gray stone of the dungeon walls, Andrew Nicholson contemplated his fate. The evil King Vaughn had taken him to this dismal place as punishment for crimes undisclosed. There had been no trial or even an explanation. From the piercing screams that periodically echoed throughout the chamber, he figured that he was in line to die at the hands of the royal executioner.

Andrew hardly had strength to open his eyes these days. There was no point; the only thing he would see was the dim flicker of torch-light illuminating the gaunt face of his fellow prisoner, Moe Harkless, eyes open but not really seeing. There were others, perhaps, judging by the frenzied yells that occasionally served as a backdrop to the gloom.

Sometimes, the guards, Ben Gordon and Luke Ridnour, would visit. During these regrettable visits, they would taunt and gloat, boasting about how they were in the King’s favor. Andrew could only gaze at the floor as he was spat upon and kicked.

Before him, a piece of moldy bread and a flagon of sour wine did little to whet his appetite, and he yearned for the royal feasts to which he had been regularly invited in the times before his arrest. His life had been so vibrant, so free, and now, he was being held prisoner by his own king for what deed, he did not know.

Suddenly, there was a new voice that Andrew did not recognize. “The king is dead! The king is dead!” shouted the voice. A shadow appeared in front of the cell, followed by its owner, and the sound of jangling keys could be heard.

“Prisoners! By holy decree of our new king James Borrego, all captives are to be released,” said the man. Moe was freed first, but his sanity had been broken, and he continued to lay in the same spot without movement.

“He may be beyond help,” Andrew said of the other man. “But worry not. Please unchain me, friend.”

The man unlocked the chains which held Andrew’s legs to the wall, and the two of them ascended to the surface together.

The sight of green grass and blue sky took Andrew’s breath away. “A sight for sore eyes, indeed,” he said. “I am glad that bastard Vaughn is dead. I can only hope that king Borrego’s rule is as benevolent as Vaughn’s was ruthless.”