Make way, make way! shouts the Sheriff to the people. Serves you right, you devil! Spouts Richard. The Bald man behind him laughing and Arcus smiling as I get into the carriage. Wizard, you have to be very careful with what you say. With what you do. With the person you are going to befriend in there, because we put everyone in the same room, unless they are the most abhorrent of god’s creatures, says the Sheriff. What about magic? I ask. I would not recommend you try it. You are going to be killed. Either by prisoners or by the guards. For every one felon, there are at least two guards, if not three. And each of them has either a crossbow or a simple bow to take aim at you. Most prisoners do not take lightly to the devil or your kind there, explains the Sheriff. A shiver goes down my spine as he finishes his explanation. Before I forget, you have to survive until we find the killer or until he comes to us, says the Sheriff. That means that you don’t know for how long I’ll be in this place, I sigh. That is the reality of the situation. Searches can take a while and considering that since this new prison’s been built there have been over sixty murders already, we have our hands full, says the Sheriff. But that’s more than a murder a week, I say as we arrive at Newgate. Something of the sort, yes, says the Sheriff as he opens the door to the carriage.

As I get down from the carriage I can’t help but be amazed looking at the giant gate of the prison. A guard comes with chains in his hands. What are those for? I ask. Your legs, responds the Sheriff. I almost forgot, do something about that hair of yours. Maybe shave it off. You are going to get lice most probably, says the Sheriff as he leaves me in the care of one of the guards. Get your arse moving. Use those legs of yours if you don’t want me to break them, says the Guard as he pushes me trough the front gate. We enter the Keeper’s House. There the guard tells the Keeper my name and the reason I am there, luckily the Sheriff forgot to mention that I was a Wizard, yet the Keeper still had a look of disgust as he wrote down suspicion of murder. As we’re about to leave I hear the Keeper mutter something under his breath. You’d wish you were burning in hell, muttered the Keeper with a wicked smile on his face. To the left, can’t you hear? asks the Guard as he slaps me over the head. Don’t stand in my way, if ya don’t want me to shit in your boots, screams a woman at us as she comes running. We both make way as a pungent smell hits our noses. Follow her, says the guard. As we go after her, she reaches the latrines. There are your latrines. There’s only one for all of you. And further down is the dungeon, hope you’ll find a place to sleep on that is not pissed on or isn’t smelling of shit, says the Guard as he smiles and gestures to me to go on.

Just as I step into the dungeon dragging the chains with me, a stark smell of death hits my nose. Two small windows on either side of the dungeon gave away a bit of light and air. Yet the floor was dirty, the beds looked rugged, and the people were discontent, bruised, tired and most, with nothing left behind their eyes. Those few with hope, were those that were supposed to be here for up to forty days. The rest, were waiting to die or be executed. The Sheriff did not lie, there were two guards for every felon, they stood from the entrance to the dungeon to the exit from the prison waiting for anyone to don anything dumb or dangerous. You could hear them behind one of the walls talking and laughing as the reminisced about beating felons or seeing who killed in what way. It felt like it was all entertainment. Before my eyes could pick out a bed to sleep on, a man waves his hands as to call me over. I look around amazed how no one really pays attention to me, besides that one man. You are new, come… Sit. That bed is empty, if you want it, says the Man. A few wooden planks thrown together with hay on it and some fabric over it. At least it’s not the floor, I say to myself. I am Dunk, I’ll leave this place tomorrow morning. My forty days will be over, says Dunk with a smile. Good on you, what were you in here for? I ask. I stole some food to feed my nephews. Their father died and they did have no one but their poor mother who can only do so much, explains Dunk. Oh no, you’re not gonna make it alive out of here, I exclaim…

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