Still tired from the journey to the castle and with no help from the man with the mace, Darin slept late into the nights. Being woken by the flickering of the candle as it died out he opened his eyes then raised his hand onto his head where he had been hit. He could feel the pain easily, but as his hand searched his forehead he couldn’t seem to feel any cut, or even a lump come to that matter. Sitting up in bed he reached around to the dying candle and found a  replacement candle, using the old one to light it gave him his fist view of where he was. It as another simple room, one bed, a chair with a table next to it, a wardrobe and a door inset into the far wall. Though this room was far grander than where he went to bed. The sheets were white and spotless cotton, smooth to the touch. All of the furniture seemed to be made from a deep brown and probably very expensive wood and the walls were made of white stone beautifully covered in carvings. Getting out of the bed he saw he was still wearing his trousers and his other belongings had been left in the chest at the foot of the bed. Deciding not to out stay his welcome Darin got dressed, attacked his gauntlet and slid his sword into the sheath on his back. Coming up to the large wooden door, that was also wonderfully hand crafted he opened it with far less effort than he expect.<em>Guess it wasn’t locked, which means I’m not a prisoner.</em>Walking out into the corridor Darin could hear the sounds of foot steps and people talking. Deciding this was his best option he went to go find out what was going on and why he was here.<br/>