At dawn, for the first time since the beginning of Owain's Grand Ceremony, the gates of Lothian Manor opened… and stayed open.
Dozens of pages in blue and yellow livery rushed out of the gate, carrying bundles of scrolls, sacks full of nails and light carpenter's hammers. Soon, -THUNK THUNK THUNK- of hammers driving nails into wood echoed from every market square, public plaza, common house, and even the docks where the fishermen cast their nets or boarded their boats.
"News!" the pages cried each time they hammered a notice to the board. "News from the manor!"
At the docks, dozens gathered around the post where a proclamation hung, shoving to get a view of the formal-looking document that bore seals in both gold and crimson wax.
"What is it, what does it say?"
"I can't read, but that's the seal of the Great Temple, isn't it? And the Inquisition? The Church is making a decree?"
