Chapitre 2: Execution ceremony
A broad-shouldered man stood before the crowd. His face showed no emotion, as dispassionate gray eyes scanned the crowd. A longsword sheathed up to the hilt and a dagger hugged his belt. It was Guardsman Henry. He headed the town militia after graduating from the Southeast Academy north of Obensnare. It was his responsibility to carry out alternative ceremonies that the mayor was not qualified to.
He projected his voice with might. "With all the evidence against Anthony Provocoelum with his fellow accomplices, and the town's council of elders also in agreement, the execution will now begin."
Trumpets sounded as the formal procedures started. There were three executioners for each of the condemned. The executioners were masked. What they feared was not karmic retribution, but the guilt that came with being recognized as someone who ended another life. This was their alternate persona. One that would die as soon as they removed their mask.
The large Guardsman stood to the side as he continued the ceremony.
"A thousand breaths of heat for the warmth of the Glowing Mother." The sun had begun to drop. The executioners lowered their blades into the flaming furnace.
"Ten quenches to the thirst of the Forgiver." The glowing blades were pulled out and dipped into the thin oil vats as flames engulfed the metal.
"One slash for mercy!" As the final word was spoken, the blades came slashing down.
Their screams pierced through the darkening phase of the ceremony.
The smell of searing flesh permeated through the air, as the younger townsfolk began to puke. Even with all their disgust for the condemned, they could not help holding it in.
The heads plopped onto the execution grounds as the sun no longer peeked from the sky.
A short figure cloaked in dark purple left the scene.
The broad Guardsman saw the figure dash away in between the alleys of the empty marketplace and released a sigh of relief.
He stepped off the stage after the executioners. The bodies would be left for half an hour and then disposed of by wagon to the nearest burial tower.
The crowd gathered in the Obensnare town center dispersed after the bodies were removed. Some questioning whispers arose between families as the older generation hushed them. Obensnare had to remain silent until the brightening of the next day when the sun rose up again.
Later, inside a small shack, two figures huddled over a tiny pot cooking over a small fire. Their words were exchanged with haste and not much elaboration.
"Guardsman?"
"Yes, I'm surprised they sent one here."
"You get recognized?"
"Most definitely. Probably under orders."
"Who?"
"Likely the Pig."
"How're things on your side?"
"It's coming along. My reputation is not that bad in this town after all."
"You need to move faster. We are running out of time."
"PA3?"
"Yes."
"Understood."
"Be safe."
"You too."
The dark purple-clad figure fled, blending in with the dark corners.
The person they were just speaking with, an old bard, sat on the ground sipping his stew. He came here soon after the children left. His questions were concise but he was still confused. What was the Pig thinking?
Finishing the stew, he fished out a thin mat to sleep on. He'd leave by tomorrow morning.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone