At least, despite the...er...interesting conversation that Tolten had found himself engaging in with Rose, he'd found a moment to speak to his ancestors and his gods. He couldn't say he felt any better about his current situation, but he at least felt slightly more grounded.

And now he at least knew how to uncover more information, which was key. Knowledge was power, and he needed to glean all that he could. Whether he were a prisoner or a king, he needed information.

At least food sounded amazing. Until he was informed in no uncertain terms that the tantalizingly smelling spread was not at all for him. He got more gruel. Why was he considered a less worthy prisoner than the others? He was a king, for goodness' sake! Even Sed's cooking had looked more appealing than the watered-down-blood colored porridge.

He was being treated like nothing and no-one. And he was beginning to realize that despite longing for that treatment as a teenager, he hated it. He knew he had no ability or right to cry rank here - in a world with no Uhra, what did it matter if he was her king? - but this was infuriating. And they wouldn't let him put clothing on! At most, his escort had mentioned perhaps allowing him an over-shirt from his room if he were too cold. He wanted a damn pair of pants!

Though...it looked as though he wasn't the only one being given the sort end of the stick. As his escort told him to find a seat and 'make some friends', he noted a man standing at a table rather than sitting. With an escort standing near. Curious - and feeling a pang of empathy - Tolten found a seat across from where the man was standing. Now Tolten could see that he didn't even have a bowl of gruel.

"Are you...alright?" he asked, cautiously. So far everyone had been friendly enough to him, but how long would his luck hold?