The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

One ambitious moonless night.

Vikir visited the dungeons beneath the city hall.

The nearly empty cell was filled with the stench of something decaying.

Prisons are inherently creepy, but it's even creepier to see them so dark and empty.

The guards had all left work early. Unusually, all of them without a single call.

The prisoners have all been executed, pardoned, or transferred, and the area is now completely empty.

Vikir made his way to one of the deepest cells.

The darkest and most fetid.

Solitary.

The most secluded of the dungeons, with the only securely locked door.

And in this dungeon was the only prisoner left.