William startled awake. His eyes, searching for the smallest amount of light, darted to the walls of his cell and landed on a rat scurrying away with the meal of stale bread his cell keeper must've left while he'd slept. It was a particularly cold day on the island in the Royal fort of Île Sainte-Marguerite, France. His thoughts drifted to the unfortunate events that lead to his fate of a life sentence on this isolated island of malaria ridden mosquitos and humidity to make even the smallest of cuts become infected within hours.

William was a scientist who devoted his time to the making of new medicine for Chlothar III the former King of France. The monarch died of a form of the measles and he was blamed for his death and was arrested from his home by Childeric II's guards.

He was sent from his thoughts when he heard a man, probably in his 30s he mused, getting dragged by guards towards the cell next to his. Each cell was about 5ft by 6ft and made on moldy carved bricks made of stone. There was a small window with bars in between the cells. The ceiling above all of the cells was about 30 feet tall with a boardwalk for guards to patrol about 20ft up. The only light came from candles, of which were bribed from the guards or cell keepers with remaining objects of value, or from between the moldy bricks. Once the guards reached the cell to the left of Williams cell, they swiftly threw the man in, and with swift fluid movements, locked the door shut with a huge steel bolt. The man scurried into the back corner of his cell at first, but then launched himself at the bars of his cell as if to confirm that they were there and indeed blocking him from freedom. He finally settled on the dusty, old and greatly used mattress of which was provided to all prisoners. Everyone exiled to the Royal fort was provided on set of sack clothing, a small rickety table, a mattress, and a deck of playing cards with Royalty imprinted to the back of them. There weren't many rules except for no talking or smoking there. Even if a prisoner escaped, they'd surely drown to death in the deadly currents just off the island or by a shark waiting to feast on the bodies of the island's dead prisoners.

William ended his 126th day of his stay at the Île Sainte-Marguerite, France Royal fort by playing solitaire in the light of his last candle on his shaky bedside table.