Crowne was locked in the underground prison without knowing what had happened. Iron chains bound his hands and feet, fastening him to the damp wall covered with moss.
The air there was cold, mixed with the scent of rust and old blood. Outside the cell, only the sound of the guards' footsteps could be heard, then silence again.
"What have I done?" Crowne muttered softly.
He stared at the chains on his hands, trying to recall if he had ever done something against the city's law. But nothing came to mind.
He did not feel that he had done anything wrong.
Not long after, the door creaked open. Two guards entered, followed by a man in a black cloak with a silver emblem on his chest.
"Crowne," said the cloaked man firmly. He looked back at the paper in his hand. There was no last name written, which surprised him. "You are under arrest for treason against Doomsty City. Because of that, you will be executed three days from now."
"Treason? What have I done?" he groaned.
