"Seeing that there are no questions or statements to be made, we should go ahead with the order, immediately."
Orren left the room and went up to the cathedral's spire and gazed over the entire city of Pomperaque, as-well-as some of the surrounding countryside. The beauty of the panorama before him faded within his heart. What he observed was no longer that to which he had become accustomed. Everything looked dark and ominous even with the sun shining brightly overhead.
Scores of criminals were rounded-up and chained. They were herded, like cattle to a slaughterhouse, to the town's square. Many of them guessed what was going to happen but they couldn't believe it, and yet, there was a remarkable absence of fear within them.
The citizens of Pomperaque were already beginning to gather in the square. They, too, displayed no great fear. This disturbed Orren to his very core. He was certain the people would be touched by the event. There have been countless executions in Phoride, ordered by the ArchBishop, but always there was some semblance of trial. This time all the deaths were to be summary but there was no outcry.
The criminals knew that something unpleasant was about to happen. They realised, immediately, there was no trial. Nevertheless they remained calm and oddly curious to what was about to happen to them. Not one of the criminals — man or woman — struggled against the monastic guards who were fastening their arms and legs to the shock wall.
Word had finally reached the Blue Mansion and the hundreds of men within its underground passages. Everyone had a friend or relative that was about to be killed. Many felt they could no longer wait with their new leaders, to prevent the carnage.
Soon, five of them made their way out through the shorter passage, to the south east, to where the sea coves on Canon's Butte hides the exit.
Mingo, Bix and three other men circled around the butte and through the back streets on their way to the square. They merged with the crowd forming there then remained in their one place, watching everything that was transpiring and waiting for Orren to arrive.
Orren was riding slowly from Halls and could be seen approaching, like a demon on a cloud,
his armour glinting ominously with every fall of his horse's hooves.