"Silverfeather," said the elf, looking down at him from the podium, "you are to be jailed indefinitely or until a member of His Lordship's family officially pardons you of your actions. Do you consent, Wild Elf?" The accused is silent for several minutes, appearing to be in deep thought, before saying, his voice strained and quiet, "I do. These consequences, I understand there." He sighed, trying to keep the embarrassment from his face. He didn't speak the common elven language very well, and whenever he knew he made a mistake, it would embarrass him greatly. One of the town's soldiers forced him to his feet, and Silverfeather let himself be put in shackles. He tried to remember exactly when it was that a Wild Elf of his tribe had been chained by those in the cities. Not since before his father's time. Eying the weapons on everyone's belts warily as he was led out of the building, holding his head up high in an attempt to preserve his pride, he avoided looking at the shackles on his wrist and attached to the collar that had been placed around his neck. He was lead to the jail. It wasn't above-ground like most of the jails in the other cities. Instead, it was below the lord's castle. The city had used to be the elven capitol, and the old castle still remained. Though true royalty hadn't lived there in over ten generations, the current lord's family still had traces of royal blood in them. The jail was more of a dungeon, really. At this point, it was empty. But when Silverfeather was shoved into the one farthest from the door, it gained one prisoner. The shackles were taken off, but a chain hooked to the wall above a stone bed was attached to the collar, and the member of the She'takl tribe was left standing in a cell, alone, though he could hear the three guards left for him at the end of the hallway. He sat on the stone bed, the small window near the ceiling only letting in a bit of sunlight. Setting his head in his hands, he tried to keep from crying, knowing it wouldn't be honorable in the least.