As soon as the clang from the bolting of the cell door's padlocks faded in Laz's mind, he helplessly walked to the farthest end of the cell. By the edge, a slab of stone protruded from the ground, rough-edged but smooth enough to serve as a seat.
Without thinking twice, Laz sank down onto it and raised his gaze to discern his environs.
The cell was surprisingly enormous to be called a captive's domain.
While looking from the outside, and based on the popular perception about dwarves, he had expected a cramped pit that would barely allow him to stretch his legs, but here, these creatures even keep proving why they were infamous with crafts of any kind.
The floor on its own was spacious enough to host a skirmish or even a small gathering.
He could make use of this advantage. He would do so, somehow.
Good enough, unlike most prisoners he had seen in old city lockups, he wasn't tethered to the wall or floor. His wrists were free from the shackles of the chain.
