The announcement leaflets distributed throughout Vallessau indicated to Cyrus it was a good half hour before the entire macabre ceremony began, but the soldiers brought the prisoners early, as expected. A small crowd had gathered around the platform, just a few dozen men and women come to ensure themselves a good view of the spectacle. Many were plants from Thorda’s resistance, armed with daggers and knives hidden in trouser legs and coat sleeves. They wouldn’t fight once the assault began in earnest, but instead ambush the soldiers scattered throughout, killing them the second Thorda’s signal sounded.

The crowd parted for the soldiers, which numbered at least a hundred. Cyrus crouched low along the edge of the belfry as the soldiers adjusted the nooses so they were nice and secure about the necks of their victims. Forty men and women of all ages, remarkably calm as they marched with their hands bound behind their backs up the steps and to their spots. Did they somehow know of Thorda’s plan? Or did they merely hold faith in the Vagrant to rescue them from execution?

Time ticked along, painfully slow. Cyrus studied the area in preparation for the ambush. The platform was built at a T intersection of streets, and soldiers formed lines checking arrivals at all three sides. Beyond the platform were several multistory homes, all currently empty as soldiers swept through them. Lioness and Ax would arrive mere moments after Thorda’s whistle, along with a group of archers, to kill the few stationed on the opposite side of the buildings. Once done, they could climb in and attack from the windows with their bows while the battle raged below.

Cyrus turned his attention down the street closest to him. Waiting at the far end would be the rest of Thorda’s elite, fully armed and dressed in their armor. They would attack in unison when given the signal, relying on surprise and superior strength to make up for a lack of numbers. If all went well, they would be greeted by chaos caused by Clarissa and Pilus. Clarissa had formed a loose alliance with those most harmed by the Joining Laws, and they were positioned in a half-dozen places in the surrounding neighborhood. When Thorda gave his signal, they would start fire after fire to delay and confuse reinforcements.

Back on the platform, all forty were now securely prepared for the sudden drop that would snap their necks and crush their windpipes. Their confidence was starting to waiver as the crowd swelled with new arrivals. One woman near the front began to weep, and when a nearby soldier yelled at her, she cried only louder.

“Soon,” Cyrus whispered, pretending the woman could hear him. “I’ll be there for you soon, I promise.”