Swamped

First things first. You need to arm yourself.

It's not that you're planning on antagonizing anyone here. It's more of a precaution in case a fight breaks out despite your best efforts.

Luckily, you're in a room filled with wooden objects. Wood might not be the strongest of materials, but it can be made sharp and that's something. At the very least it's a distraction, and if need be you can even go for someone's eyes.

It would be easier if you had tools, mind. Right now the best you can do without the risk of drawing too much attention is pulling off loose bits from the chair legs, the underside of the table, and the interior of the bed frame. You can't really do anything to sharpen them, but it's the best you can do for now.

You also manage to chip off a bit of the chamberpot. That's going to be durable enough to last more than one strike, though it's still not very strong.

Suddenly, you think you hear footsteps outside. You rush to the table, in case they're coming in. No sense giving them an idea of what you've been up to.

The door slowly opens, followed by somebody sticking their foot in and making a fast kick at thin air. Why would... oh, probably to stop you from waiting outside the door and trying to ambush them. Good thing you aren't that desperate.

The man from before steps in, accompanied by two others.

"The master has deemed your fate beneath his concern for the moment," he says. "Which means he has left it up to me. And what I am thinking is that we are, at the moment, understaffed. With several members missing or recuperating from previous missions, we cannot really spare anyone to keep watch on prisoners."

That doesn't sound good for you.

"At least, prisoners who do not make themselves useful," he continues. "As I said, we are understaffed. An extra pair of hands could lift that burden quite a bit."

Well. That seems a clear enough choice. So clear that it's not really a choice at all.

"What do you want me to do, then?" you ask.