I sit in my cold cell, eating slowly as I sit in a bundle of hay. At least they've seen fit to feed me well- whatever they mean to have me for, it's clear the Church wishes me in good shape. Or perhaps, I've won some mercy from my kindness with them in past? I just chuckle weakly, biting back a sob at the thought as I shove more spiced meat into my mouth to shut up the sound. I finish eating and set the plate aside before curling back into my knees. "...Ramza... Please, be swift. I can nary conceive what the Church deigns to do with me, and this I fear only makes the matter far more grave..."