[The POV is that of the Tofa Ton-lal-set, formerly Eminence of the Southern Region.]
Once again came the footsteps, and the key in the lock. The door slammed open and two guards entered. Always two, when he left his cell; even after all this time, they must fear he would intimidate one guard unaccompanied.
Time to live or to die.
The nearer guard unlocked the shackles and gathered up the slack of the chain in his lower hands. The small, almost odorless candle given to prisoners flickered feebly. As the guards tugged him along, Ton-lal-set resisted for a moment and blew as hard as he could at the candle, snuffing it out. Then he swaggered toward the door to meet his fate.