His crime broke laws thousands of years old. Thrown into a cell of metal and stone, he was left to contemplate his sins. The only sounds, the wailing of his fellow prisoners and the soft tumble of prayers falling from his own lips.
In other cells, other captives scratched marks on their walls with rusty, iron shackles, hopelessly tracking days without sunshine. He didn’t bother. He knew he would leave in a crude box, there was no use counting toward the inevitable. It would come regardless of when.
If he would deny his lord, he would garner release. He refused.