The next day, as dawn broke.
The square in the center of Newly Town had never been so crowded.
The pioneers huddled in groups, their faces etched with wariness and numbness. They were used to their lord's summons, which usually meant either a tax increase or a forced labor draft.
On the other side, the villagers from Gray Mist Village were far more listless. They leaned against the walls in twos and threes, indifferent to everything, as if they had only come to watch a spectacle that had nothing to do with them.
The fighting spirit ignited by the great battle a month prior had long since been eroded by the hollow emptiness of their daily lives.
Barrett led the town guard, maintaining order at the edge of the crowd. His taut face betrayed no emotion, but the occasional sidelong glance he cast toward the high platform revealed his inner astonishment.
A high platform, temporarily constructed from raw logs, stood in the center of the square.
