He had no idea how long he had been rotting down here in the dungeons. Moons, mayhaps? Even years? With a mountain of effort and a small old bone found in a corner, he had managed to mark each day with a scratch on the granite wall. But eventually the bone was slowly worn down until it broke into fragments. The cowardly lord Mooton held him here instead of being confined in some guest room out of spite for the sacking of Maidenpool. But it was not like he was the one that sacked his shitty southern town. No, it had been that flayed cunt Roose Bolton and his men. In fact, he was here because the Leech Lord had set him up. He did not see it at the start, but when he spent a few moons thinking on it, he realised that the old Bolton had served them up for defeat in Duskendale by overreaching so deep in the crownlands.