Check out the lower level.

Moving around the room you help yourself to the mug, and a loaf of bread sitting on a side table. The mug contains ale, and it tastes cool and smooth sliding down your throat after all the dust from the crumbling wall and the dry streets. You pick up an apple to stuff into your pouch next to the heavy bag of gold and leave the empty mug on the table. You'd like to refill the mug, but sense the impatience of the mercenaries upstairs. You had better get out of here. Grabbing one of the crusty rolls, you quickly move across the room and pull open the door and step into the dimly lit hallway closing it as quietly as possible behind you. As the door closes you hear yelling and footsteps coming from the second floor. Looks like you got inside just in time. The strong smell of mold, urine and unwashed bodies is emanating from a narrow stairwell. The dim light is coming from a lantern, and by turning a knob you are able to coax a little more light from its wick. The lantern’s oil reservoir is nearly empty, but you have to keep moving because you hear angry yelling coming from just outside the door. Moving down the slick steps you hope that there is another way out of this stinking stairway, with the door barred, it is pretty clear that you must have come this way.

The steps are narrow and slippery from the dampness so you move slowly in a downward spiral. After descending for between two or three full turns you enter a long room with cells along the right hand wall. The stench of urine and feces is overwhelming and you hear the hoarse pleading voices of the men locked in the cages.

“Water. Water, we need water.” Croaked a man in a stained tunic that smelled even worse than the rest of the room. “No one has been down here for two days – we thought we had been left to die.” You see a large barrel of water by a desk in the far side of the room, but you hear the sounds of footsteps coming slowly down the steps behind you.