"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.....Nobody knows my sorrow....." you sing. The jail is extremely depressing. There's mildew or some other kind of fungus on the walls, moss in the corners and around the window. The window is three inches wide and maybe ten inches tall, making it not very fun to try and look out of. Besides for the castle wall (the back wall), the walls of the cell are thick, crude iron bars. Seems like these people haven't yet mastered the art of smoothing bars out. At the moment you're sitting in the middle of the damp floor.

"Would you shadd-up? Your singing makes me sick to my stomach," yells the rounchy- looking guy in the next cell.

You turn to him. "Would you like to join me, then?" you ask.

The guy laughs, a scratchy sound. "Not particularly, my jailbird friend."

You grumble something about "hate being called that" but just sigh and look back at the floor, playing the "I-can-see-pictures-with-the-crack-lines-in-the-floor" game.

You played that for about ten minutes when the guy says "So why are you in here?" he asks.

Looking up at him, you say "I told the truth to the guard out front."

The guy starts laughing hysterically.

"What? It's true!" you protest.

"That's the funny part!"

You decide that this guy has a sick sense of humour. "What about you?"

"Stealing." he replies shortly.

"That's it?" you continue.

"No, but the rest is gory."

"Oh."

Just then a clot of guards walk in, open your cell and take you by the arms. "We're taking you to the king; he wants to talk to you, spy."

You automatically being to protest "But I'm not a --" but are cut off.

To the King!!